


Home Is Wherever I'm With You (a.k.a. Avengers Bonding Time Adventure)

by Sunche



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dancing, Drunk!Bucky, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve has a kink (gasp!), Thor and Tony are drinking buddies, bonus flower crowns and glitter, festival feels, mentions of a whole lot of good bands, music festival clichés, tent sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-04 10:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1775611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunche/pseuds/Sunche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony drags everyone to Bonnaroo music festival because he thinks they need some serious bonding time, now that they have another super assassin on the team. It's a lot of first times for Bucky: his first vacation, his first time in a crowd in years, his first time seeing live music since the recovery, his first time in a Silent Disco, his first time telling someone how he feels about Steve. It's an adventure, and it lasts four days. And then some more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thursday

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this mere weeks after first having watched CA:TWS. This story is set at the time and place of Bonnaroo Festival 2014 in Tennessee (June 13–15). There's going to be a chapter for every day of the festival, Thursday through to Monday. So for everyone having stayed at home: here's a little glimpse of what you missed those days. I compiled the band line-up from the last few years, though, if anyone's wondering which bands were actually playing that weekend.
> 
>  
> 
> I blame the imaginebucky tumblr for making me think up more headcanons than ever and I blame Britta for most of the things I put in this piece. Also thanks for betaing, love! x

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with the journey

When he first mentioned it, Tony called it "Avengers Bonding Time" and he insisted that it was utterly necessary – which wasn't true, even Bucky knew that, but when Tony insisted, who could say no?

  
  


"Isn't Manchester in… England?"

Steve has already unlocked his StarkPad, searching for the music festival Tony is planning to drag all of them to.

"No, Captain _America_ , it's in Tennessee. Near Nashville, actually." Sam looks bemused. And strangely excited.

"Oh." Steve has found the Bonnaroo website, and the first thing he's looking up is the prices.

Bucky's eyes widen when he sees the price – general admission without camping – and even more when Tony explains he's gotten them VIP tickets, with access to all possible special areas and seats and probably even the most luxurious accommodation available on site.

"Tony, this is…"

"–ridiculous," says Bruce, leaning over Steve's shoulder, who's sitting next to Bucky on the sofa. "Even though they have yoga classes, which is weird for a festival, but still better than watching bands in a crowd."

"Like, if Black Sabbath were playing I'd get it. But this…," Steve's eyes skim the lineup, "this is… I know none of these artists."

Natasha – who, Bucky swears, was _just_ on the other side of the room and how could she possibly have appeared next to Bruce in this nanosecond – chuckles. "That's a lie and you know it. You must know Elton John." When Steve frowns, something that Bucky should have gotten used to by now happens: Except for Thor, everyone in the room starts singing.

"And caaaaaaaan you feeeeeeeel the looooooooove toniiiiiiight…"

While no one really knows when to stop – Sam even sings the whole first verse with every spoken part to himself – Nat just pats both Steve and Bucky on the shoulders. "I know this was after your Disney days, but I also know you watched _The Lion King_ only a few weeks ago."

Bucky remembers, and Steve does too, and they keep discussing the lineup for a little while. Bucky insists they should go and see Seasick Steve, just for the sake of that name, to which Steve dryly replies it should at least be 'Motionsick Steve', if anything.

"Hey punk," says Bucky with a nudge at Steve's shoulder. "Why was Coney Island not the first thing we've done together as soon as I was…" He trails off in lack of words.

"…ready?"

Bucky nods, suddenly uneasy.

"Well, jerk, because I do find it more important that you need to know your way around a grocery store, learn the subway system, catch up on all the movies we've missed in the last 70 years, get used to a soft and warm marshmallow bed and get introduced to the mighty internet."

Bucky's smile has gotten bigger with every word and of course, Steve is right, the first priority has been recovering, then learning and _then_ reminiscing.

"If you want to, we can do it next week. It's relatively quiet at the moment, I think the World's Mightiest Heroes can probably take on a villain or two without me."

"You _think_?," Tony snorts with a playfully disbelieving stare at Steve. "You can stay on your love-nest island for as long as you want, my friend."

Steve just smiles his stupid adorable surrendering smile that has hundreds of people weak at the knees – including Bucky.

"Next week," he reassuringly whispers to Bucky, who may or may not get goosebumps and for a second he's glad that it's his metal arm brushing Steve's, so there's no way his best friend could feel his arm hair standing up.

They decide to not be killjoys and do this "Avengers Bonding Time" weekend together, all eight of them. No SHIELD supervision, no iron suits or hammers or arrows or wings or shields, no stress. But there is one condition: they're gonna stay in tents, like regular visitors. (Tony is appalled, but for the sake of the festival, he eventually agrees. Even if the tents are gonna be a tad more luxurious than what Bucky and Steve are used to.)

  
  


Steve and Bucky's Coney Island adventure a week later leaves them… awkward, to say the least.

Steve didn't get motion sick, so Bucky wasn't allowed to laugh at him then, and the Cyclone ride (with the whole ride wonderfully updated, of course) was a little nightmare for Bucky since he couldn't really remember being on a rollercoaster, even in the 40s. Bucky didn't tell Steve, he just silently enjoyed Steve's childish joy about the ride and his lack of motionsickness. Remembering only fragments, Bucky barely recognized anything in the park, but he still knew how absolutely blissfully Steve had enjoyed his ice cream in the sun and how close Bucky had been to simply taking his hand then. Now, in the 21st century, he'd already learned no one would even give them a single look if they held hands, but once again, he chickened out at the thought. Steve was still Captain America and Bucky was still supposed to be dead, and frankly, handholding was impossible, even if Bucky ever dared making the move. They did share an ice-cream cone though, and Steve's smile did outshine the sun, just like in the old days. It was painful and soothing at the same time. Bucky couldn't remember the last time he was so relaxed and happy, probably way before the war, at the Stark Expo that he barely remembers either.

But on the train home, he dared resting his head on Steve's shoulder and snoozing for a while, and when he woke up, Steve was gently running one hand through Bucky's hair while his other was not-so-subtly lying on the metal hand. Bucky pretended to still be asleep.

  
  


Alas, that adventure leaves them awkward, cautious around each other, less spontaneous and meaningless cuddling, less accidental touching. Bucky doesn't want anything dumb to happen between them before this Avengers Bonding Time adventure. Whatever happens then, he can blame on too much sun or too much alcohol (at least on his side).

  
  


Getting to Manchester is easy; they fly into Nashville, where two subtle black rental cars are already waiting, each with a driver who probably doesn't even have a festival ticket. Tony still somehow manages to get through the tollbooth with permission for the drivers to pick them up again after the festival. Bucky doesn't question it; he can't ask either, since Tony is in the other car with Clint, Bruce and Thor.

Sam insists on listening to the Bonnaroo radio channel which features traffic news, interviews and studio performances by the artists playing this weekend. Bucky doesn't know any of them but he enjoys this English band called Arctic Monkeys. They decide to go see them. Natasha is unusually relaxed, or at least it seems, since her big sunglasses are hiding most of her face, but Bucky thinks he can see a tiny smile brightening her face. A really tiny one.

Steve has been pretty quiet ever since they started their journey in the morning, but he looks anything but stressed out, he's probably just lost in thought. Bucky sighs; he's not overly fond of summer, he knows the cold too well. He can count the summer days he remembers on one hand, and it makes him sad. But he can also feel his left arm going unusually warm in the sun coming in through the window. It feels too weird, being able to actually _enjoy_ good weather for once, being able to walk around freely, explore things, seeing people as more than just civilians or obstacles, as _friends_ , actually riding cars instead of blowing them up, eating everything as long as it tastes good, making decisions… The latter is probably the most overwhelming.

Bucky's lived for centuries without anyone asking him for a decision, let alone advice. Even something as simple as tea or coffee in the morning, Bucky struggles to decide. There's Nat asking him if he wants to shower before she blocks the bathroom, Tony wanting to know which whiskey he likes best, Sam suggesting three different albums to listen to in the car, Clint offering him five different movies to watch, Thor inquiring which mug he'd like to drink his coffee from and eventually, there's Steve refusing to make decisions for him whenever Bucky searches for his glance to help him out. Steve doesn't flat out ask for decisions. He always gives Bucky advantages and disadvantages of every option, reminds him which one he chose the last time and offers to choose the same as Bucky when they both have to – so they can always blame each other for the bad decisions.

Bucky throws a light scarf over his arm. They must be pretty close to the tollbooth already, since the road is packed with visitors from everywhere and they've been stuck in between for a little while now – even with the VIP campsite having its own entrance. On the next lane, Bucky can see Thor's face pressed against the window of the other car, fast asleep, and Tony taking pictures of him. Bucky shakes his head, smiling. He hasn't had something close to friends in 70 years, and not that he'd needed any, or had time for any, but having people around him that he can trust – to a certain degree – and that respect him… he hasn't had that since the 40s. That, and a left arm. But at least he can creep out his new acquaintances by making stupid puns about the arm "coming in handy" and threatening to take it off (which he can't, but no one except Tony, who has made a series of experiments on the arm, know about that).

  
  


Steve finds him in January, several months after Bucky left him on the shore, but only because sometimes, saving the world is more important than saving your former best friend, and even The Avengers can't go without a leader (Tony would disagree). So Steve ignores Christmas and spends New Year's Eve following Bucky's trail until he finds him on a rooftop a week later, exhausted and sick and dirty. And he lets Steve take him to a warm place, eats the food he's given, takes a shower, and accepts the bed he's offered. They don't talk for two weeks, well, Steve talks, Bucky just nods or shakes his head and Steve doesn't question it. He gives him the space he needs, lets him run away several times, and Bucky always returns. He wonders how Steve knows. He wants to know so many things. He never asks.

Four weeks in, Steve suggests they go to Smithsonian because yes, the exhibition has been prolonged until March, it's been running for a year now.

The first time Bucky talks to Steve, it's that day. His words are, "I remember." It's probably the most beautiful thing Steve has ever heard.

Steve spends the rest of the day telling Bucky about everything that's happened when he was still… well, Bucky. And even though his eyes are always fixed on the exhibition pieces, Steve knows he's listening, even though there are no reactions coming from him.

It's been more or less three months since Steve brought him back to New York, not to Brooklyn but to the Stark Tower where Bucky got his own room on Steve's floor. He screamed his way through multiple nightmares, at least for a week, until Steve snapped and offered him to stay in the same bed. Maybe for old time's sake, maybe just to be able to grab Bucky when he started kicking and screaming, and hold him in place.

Bucky hasn't had a nightmare in a month, but Steve still goes to sleep in Bucky's bed. And there's no reason to complain, Bucky enjoys the new sensation of Steve's arm thrown over his waist or his steady breath in Bucky's neck, so if he doesn't want this to ever stop, he better not talk to his friend about this.

  
  


"Sorry, they didn't have the option 'Put _some_ tents up'. I know you're so down-to-earth that you'd even have fun putting up your own tent, but I guess we'll have to deal with this," Tony explains as they've gathered around their four two-person-tents in the VIP camping area.

"Oh come on, you act like good service is a bad thing," Steve says. The tents comfortably fit two, probably even three people, with luggage. Thor is the first one to inspect a tent from the inside: no one dares telling him it's supposed to fit two people when he joyfully exclaims how perfect this size is for a man that needs as much space as him. With a giggle, Tony and Bruce disappear in one of the other tents.

"How do we fit five people in two tents?," Sam asks, and for a second, Bucky panics. He can't share his tent with anyone else but Steve. Sure, by now he's okay with any of them invading his personal space, but always in a setting he could easily leave if he wanted to. But sleeping in a closed space with someone he hasn't known for 80 years and more is impossible to him.

"I'd say we're all used to sharing small sleeping space. Let's make the best of it," Natasha says. "You, you, me," she points at Clint and Sam, "go in there." She gestures to one of the two leftover tents, giving Bucky a reassuring nod – hell, she always knows that's up – and while Sam looks slightly confused, Clint has already dived into the tent.

"Better than marshmallow," Steve says with a shrug and Sam can't help but agree. All five of them are used to sleeping in tiny spaces, sometimes with colleagues pressed against them, so this wouldn't really be much different. Even less between friends.

Once Bucky is inside their tent he almost wants to get out again, it's hot as hell in there with the June sun blazing down on it. Again, he's not one for too much heat. Steve is being very understanding and lets Bucky get their luggage out of the trunk, offering to prepare the tent inside alone. Bucky curls up in the empty trunk of the rental car because it's probably the coolest place to stay with the breeze coming through the open front doors. He could stay here for hours until the whole place cools down in the evening, he even considers taking a shower after not having done anything. This is a vacation. His first vacation in… he doesn't remember. Maybe it's his first vacation ever, it's not like he was especially rich in his younger years, growing up in the Depression, and he never returned from war, and every other place he's been in the world was not even close to a vacation. It was a journey, a mission, nothing else. Bucky is 87% sure this music festival is his first vacation ever.

  
  


Sam's buzzing to see the festival site, but even though there are bands playing, there are none that really interest them. And Sam doesn't really want to go alone. The group has gathered around outside of their tents because no one could stay inside for longer than necessary, lounging in their camping chairs and on blankets, checking maps and reading out cool stuff to do to each other. There's a water slide, a cinema, a comedy theatre, a hair salon, an art exhibit and a Silent Disco, next to multiple other entertainment programs, but the Silent Disco, as Nat, Sam and Tony decide, is a must for all. Preferably this night. After getting hammered, because it's Thors-day. (Bucky can't ignore the annoyed sigh from Steve next to him, he can't get drunk, and he doesn't really like the others being drunk, so Bucky whispers 'I'll stay sober with you' to him, earning that stupid perfect sunshine smile he hates so much.)

Bruce finds yoga classes in the program and Natasha is quick to join him as he finally speaks up, saying he'd like to have a look at it. Before getting hammered, preferably. Tony teases Bucky about his 'impossible hairdo' (aka a messy bun because it's really damn hot) and suggests he visit that hairdresser, but Steve throws a water bottle at him to shut him up. Weirdly enough, it works. Bucky still doesn't know what kind of agreement Steve and Tony have, or if Tony even _likes_ Bucky, but he doesn't seem to dare insult him _too_ much. Tony likes insulting people. Maybe he's scared of Steve (for a reason Bucky most likely wouldn't understand… how could anyone ever be scared of Steve fucking Rogers?).

  
  


Bucky understands the concept of a Silent Disco about at much as he understands modern music altogether, but the last time he'd been dancing, there was no way anyone would dance _without_ a partner. Now, stuck in a mass of people moving their bodies, he has both zero and 10 dance partners at the same time, and some of them aren't moving in time with the music because they're listening to another channel on their own headphones. Bucky wonders how going dancing has come to this. It feels weird, there's strangers' hands brushing his sides, hips pushing him aside, shoulders pressing into his back, and at one point someone even grabs his butt, which makes Bucky yelp and spin around, ready to kill whoever dared touch him inappropriately. But when his hands go for a knife automatically, there's nothing there. He's unarmed.

Steve's there immediately, holding his arms so tightly Bucky thinks his bones are gonna break in the right one, but he calms down. Steve takes off his headphones, and then Bucky's.

"Are you okay?," he asks. His blue eyes are wild and full of worry.

"I would be if you weren't breaking my arm," Bucky says.

"Oh, sorry!!" Steve takes his hands off immediately, looking sheepish, but the worry doesn't leave his stare.

"I– someone groped me, I… snapped, I guess."

The corner of Steve's mouth is twitching, but he manages not to laugh. Instead, he suggests they leave the disco tent for a while. Bucky agrees.

As they fight through the crowd, Steve grabs Bucky's hand and leads them to the exit where a bunch of people are smoking and silently dancing with their headphones on. The conversations are even quieter out here and everyone's footsteps are less noisy.

"Is this your first Silent Disco?," Bucky asks. There's still music coming from his headphones, but since they're hanging around his neck he doesn't really care.

"Yeah, actually… I haven't gone dancing very often. Nat and Sam forced me to go out with them twice, but I just ended up carrying them both home because Nat had the brilliant idea that she could drink me under the table. I swear, I tried explaining my metabolism to her, but she didn't wanna take it."

Bucky chuckles; he can imagine that very well. He's more surprised that Steve even _tried_ talking her out of her idea.

"Tony threw some parties at Stark Tower too, but I never really felt like dancing there, everything was just really messy, so… I'm a pretty miserable dancer, I guess. No one's doing any ballroom dancing anymore. I hear kids take courses these days to mingle with others their age and to have an excuse to drink when they're underage."

"Surely there's courses for adults as well?," Bucky says, and then, playfully offended, adds: "I'm appalled that you haven't asked _me_ yet. You know I'm a great dancer!"

"Are you still?"

"Look, I haven't danced in 70 years, but I don't think it's something you can unlearn. Like swimming, or riding a bike." To be honest, Bucky hasn't even tried ballroom dancing, but getting back into it would probably be pretty easy. Even after decades of not doing it.

Steve nods, fumbling with his headphones, and eventually turning them off. "Well… actually… why not? Let's try it. When we get back. If you happen to have unlearned it, we'll simply do a course. … Together."

Bucky's about to beam before he takes a proper look at his friend and sees the hidden pain in his expression. And he remembers. He _knows_. With a sigh, he leads Steve a few steps away from the people around them, and turns off his own headphones.

"If this is about Peggy… look, I know no one knows how long she's gonna be around. But remember this really bad movie we watched about these vegetarian vampires?"

Steve laughs, incredulous. " _Twilight_?"

"Yeah, that. Remember the ending, where she can't dance because of her foot and he just lifts her up and puts her feet on his? You… you could do that. As soon as you can waltz, you can… catch up on that dance that you owe her. It's better than nothing, I supp–"

Bucky's incapable of ending his sentence with all air being pushed out of his lungs as Steve tackles him with a bone-crushing hug.

"A-alright," Bucky gasps. "Don't kill me!"

"Shit, sorry," Steve says, again, and loosens his grip until Bucky can breathe again. "I just… yes. I mean, I hated that movie, but the idea is flawless. I can't wait to get back home. Thanks, pal."

"Punk," Bucky snorts, but he can't stop smiling. He missed actual dancing, not that mating ritual that's going on inside the disco tent.

"Murder on the dancefloor!!," someone yells not far away from them and Steve and Bucky spin around, but no one else panics. A bunch of people are hastily putting on their headphones again, searching for channels, and running back inside, the soldiers following them.

"It's a murder on the dancefloor," it sounds from multiple smiling mouths around them.

"But you better not steal the moves, DJ!!," a girl next to them sings, probably completely out of tune, and that's when Bucky realises it's not actually a murder on the dancefloor. It just seems to be a really popular song playing right now.

Steve is watching with a smile on his face, shaking his head. Bucky wonders how long it took Steve to learn about all these new things in the past three years he's been defrosted. He doesn't look scared of anything new, merely interested and fascinated, while Bucky, having been out of cryofreeze long enough to learn a lot if only he hadn't been made into a fucking _machine_ , is still suspicious of most things. But Steve, his eyes are always shining with fascination, he loves being handed things, and examining them. His heart is so pure that he simply trusts everyone not to kill him. Bucky is suspicious of food, of electronical devices, and he was hella suspicious of Thor when he first met him (seriously, _God of Thunder?_ What's next, mutants?). He always needs at least two people telling him there's nothing to worry about to feel safe. And Steve, he's always one of them. (Except that time when Thor handed Bucky his hammer because he wanted to know how it reacts to the metal arm and both Nat and Clint said it wouldn't do him any harm. They didn't mention the weight.)

  
  


They decide to head back to the tents, but there's only poor reception in the tent so even sending messages to the others is impossible, and Steve would never let Bucky wait anywhere alone, not with so many crazy people around. So they fight their way back into the dancing crowd, until they get to a free space where Thor and someone they don't know are having a dance-off to a song Bucky has never heard, but apparently everyone else knows, since they're all singing along. Steve slaps his palm against his forehead before telling Bucky: "This song is played at every party at Stark Tower. It's Thor's favourite Midgardian song, and most times he spills his beer trying to dance and drink at the same time."

Bucky nods, while everyone else sings about 'pissing the night away' and about getting knocked down and getting up again. It's ridiculous but Bucky must admit that Thor's a pretty good dancer.

It's then, right when Steve wants to tell someone of the group that they're leaving, that the whole tent starts cheering and clapping and aww-ing and people are starting to hug each other. Steve puts on his headphones again. And even while trying to find the right channel himself, Bucky already knows that this is a song he has to know, he just _has_ to.

As the song sounds clearly from his speakers, he remembers the music from some romantic comedy movie he watched a few weeks back, for there was nothing better to watch on TV. He remembers _Mr. Brightside_ and the crazy dance that the blond woman in the movie did, and he remembers it being pretty similar to everyone's emotional outbursts around him right now.

Even Steve is singing along, and Sam and Tony are hugging while singing, Nat and Clint are shouting the words at each other, holding hands. Bucky decides he has to ask about this phenomenon at a later point, it's probably another popcultural reference he doesn't understand yet.

  
  


Bruce and Tony join the soldiers as they head back to their tents, leaving behind a sea of voices that's getting lower the further away they walk. Steve, being torn between laughing at the completely hammered Tony staggering in front of them and simply picking him up and carrying him the rest of the way, looks completely at ease. He's still humming _Mr. Brightside_ to himself, smiling, and eventually scoops up Tony and throws him over his shoulder when the not-so-invincible Iron Man threatens to stumble and fall. Tony doesn't even try to argue, he just sighs and let himself be carried to bed.

  
  


"I can't believe we have a tent this big."

The last time Bucky stayed in a tent, it was tiny and Steve wasn't anymore, which kind of made it even more uncomfortable. Cuddling with Steve before he went to war, back in their shitty Brooklyn apartment that only had one bed, it was something different than cuddling with Steve during the war. Pre-war Steve was tiny and always sick and in need of being cuddled in order to keep warm. But Captain America didn't need to be cuddled anymore, he wasn't sick, he wasn't tiny, and Bucky was the one in need of being cuddled in order to keep warm. Telling Steve "I'm turning into you" was a joke back then, but it turned out to be true. Cuddling with Steve after everything else was another level of different, it was simply for the sake of helping Bucky with his nightmares.

And now that the nightmares are gone, there's… nothing left.

"Yeah, big enough for one god of thunder." Steve laughs at his own joke. Steve's lying way too far away from Bucky, but there's no excuse to move any closer. It's not cold, no one is sick, Bucky won't kill anyone in his sleep.

"We could definitely fit a third person in here."

"Why, do you want to cuddle?" Again Steve chuckles, but as Bucky doesn't answer, his sheets rustle. Bucky stares at the ceiling stoically. Saying no now would be too late anyway, so he can just as well not answer.

"Bucky… d'you think you'll freak out if I'm too far away?"

Bucky shrugs. He hasn't had a nightmare in a month, but that doesn't mean he doesn't still enjoy waking up after a good night's sleep with Steve pressed to his backside.

"You know… I've kinda gotten used to sharing a bed with you," Steve says. "I know it would probably get hot tomorrow morning, but for the night…"

Bucky turns his head to see Steve lying on his side, head propped up on his hand. He looks painfully inviting. He isn't even that far away anymore, since upon arrival, Steve had pushed their mattresses together so he could pile their luggage on each side of the tent.

Steve lifts his blanket with a grin – Bucky would call it _dirty_ if that didn't make him really nervous – and just waits.

Bucky's quick to decide and simply rolls over, face first, until his back is snug against Steve's broad chest.

"Didn't know I was that irresistible," whispers Steve and Bucky can _feel_ his stupid fucking grin. Before Bucky can escape the sassy soldier again and get back to his own mattress, Steve curls an arm around him, keeping him in place.

"You did this to yourself, jerk, there's no escaping now," he mutters against his friend's neck, but Bucky doesn't even try to wriggle out of this grip. He just murmurs "punk" into the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be adding a song list of everything I mentioned to the end notes of every chapter, starting now!
> 
> Sophie Ellis-Baxtor — Murder On The Dancefloor  
> Chumbawamba — Tubthumping  
> The Killers — Mr. Brightside


	2. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with the photobooth.

 

Like every morning before, Bucky wakes up as soon as Steve does. And Steve wakes up _early_. Like, crazy early. Bucky has such a light sleep that every stir, every movement Steve does, wakes him up immediately, and so does every step someone takes in a 5-ft-radius of their tent, and every word that's said in the tents next to them.

He knows their neighbors from across the path wake up with British indie music (Bucky hopes he got that right, he doesn't really know what 'indie' is), he knows that Thor dreams about Jane (he mumbles her name once), he knows Nat and Bruce have already left for a morning yoga lesson, he knows someone nearby apparently likes sausages for breakfast and he suspects that a person called Johnny has probably been missing the whole night, judging from their friends' cheerful shouting.

As Steve attempts to move his arm from where it's comfortably resting half on Bucky's side, half on the mattress, Bucky catches his wrist and gently pushes Steve's arm back down on what's left of their sheets. They kind of kicked them all over on the other mattress in the course of the night.

"Don't even think about it," he grumbles, even though Steve's lying half on top of him and he's not exactly a featherweight anymore. Still, Bucky has dealt with bigger guys. Steve laughs softly, and for a split second Bucky thinks he's going to nuzzle his face into his neck, but it's not happening. Instead, Steve whispers: "I kind of promised Sam a morning run…"

Bucky snorts. "There are no places to run, everything is full of people."

"I will–"

"–you overslept," Bucky cuts him off. "Sam will understand."

Steve groans like an annoyed teenage boy. "But I'm the captain?," he tries, but that doesn't work on Bucky.

"Like I ever followed your orders, punk."

Steve stays silent for a moment, then tries another way: "I'm really hot right now, Bucky."

"I know that, Steve." Bucky hopes he has unlearned how to blush.

"Seeking permission to leave the tent, Sergeant," Steve whispers, approximately an inch from Bucky's ear. Wow. Unfair.

"Permission denied." Bucky can't help but chuckle. He missed this, he really did.

"Then you leave me no other option," says Steve, and even too quickly for Bucky to react, he simply rolls over, burying Bucky under him, before landing flat on his back on the other mattress.

"You're the worst," Bucky grumbles, accepting his defeat. "You can sleep on the couch tonight."

Steve laughs, and Bucky does, too. They both know that's not gonna happen. They don't even have a couch.

  
  


"You must be kidding me."

"If you're all gonna make fun of Seasick Steve, I can make fun of everyone else, too."

Steve looks smug as they're watching the first band for the day at about 2 PM: Big Sam's Funky Nation. Bucky loves it, he hasn't listened to much funk, but it's very danceable and these men are making a great big show out of their set. He also notices Sam tapping his feet along with the music at some point. Sam won't admit he's really into it, too. He won't give Steve that satisfaction.

Bruce decides to stay at the campsite and to only watch the headliners, maybe (Bucky knows Tony and Natasha will manage to drag him to other bands, too), Steve has headed off to go and see the art exhibit, Tony and Thor have already started drinking (Bucky is sure that at the end of this festival, every single one of the visitors will know Thor by name), and Clint and Natasha hide from the sun in the cinema tent, watching obscure independent movies and Q&As with the respective directors. This leaves Bucky with Sam, who's overly excited about everything, from the bands to the comedy theatre, and he kind of makes Bucky promise to try out the Bigass Water Slide (yep, that's its official name) with him in the course of the weekend.

  
  


"Don't you think we should do that when the others are here as well?"

Sam just snorts and puts his coins in the slot. "We don't fit in here with eight people. Too bad," he says, and then, "SMILE!!"

Bucky grins helplessly as the first flash goes off in the little retro photobooth they've found next to the Bonnaroo post office onsite.

Sam puts up Bucky's hair into what Tony would call an 'even more impossible hairdo', fringe and all, and in the next picture Sam probably has Bucky's hands grabbing his face, trying to defend himself from the worst hairdresser ever.

"We should have thought about this before going in," cries Bucky as they can't think of any good poses for the third picture and their time is running out, so in the end they're probably looking at the camera awkwardly.

"Listen to this," says Sam suddenly: "Three tomatoes walk down the street: Papa, Mama and Baby Tomato. Baby Tomato starts lagging behind and Papa Tomato gets really angry, goes back and squishes him and says–"

"–Ketchup," says Bucky, rolling his eyes, just as the flash goes off. "Look, I was huddled up at Stark Tower for months, don't think I haven't watched all cult movies there are."

"You were supposed to laugh in that photo!," Sam pouts and Bucky simply shoves him off the chair.

"You probably look extremely excited for me to laugh at your joke. It will be adorable," Bucky mocks him as he exits the booth as well.

The pictures take 5 minutes to develop, and the two of them sit down in the shadow the booth is casting on the ground.

"Oh!! You need to explain the Mr. Brightside phenomenon to me. What is it with this song that makes everyone tear up as soon as they hear the intro?"

Sam chuckles, but he can't really explain it either. "I don't know man, the early 2000s were weird as fuck. But it's catchy and I think everyone can kinda relate to the lyrics, make up their own story around it, y'know? Most people say they didn't even know they knew the lyrics by heart until they actually sang their heart out to it. I once read that some magazine put it in their Top 5 of the best songs of the last 15 years. You know, everyone has probably seen their crush making out with someone else and… I guess it's just really relatable. Seeing as the song isn't really old yet, about 10 years, I think there are generations to come that will still be crazy about it whenever they hear it, especially in public. Don't… don't question it. It's just this universal understanding that it's a great song. Like… like 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. You don't know that you know it by heart until you sing along to it, man."

Bucky doesn't say that right now, he has no idea what 'Bohemian Rhapsody' is supposed to be, but he agrees with everything else that Sam has said.

"Tell me my friend, have you ever seen your crush kissing someone else right before your eyes?"

Bucky swallows. There's a lot of reasons to say no right now, pretending he never had a real crush, saying all his crushes only ever kissed _him_ , claiming he doesn't remember enough of his life pre-cryofreeze to say.

But the truth is, Bucky has never seen Steve kissing anyone. Not even Peggy. Bucky knows he has, but luckily he was not there to see it. Before realizing he doesn't want anyone else but this stupid scrawny sarcastic kid, he might have liked one or two girls, but he doesn't think he had to witness them kissing anyone else. Natasha told him she once kissed Steve for a mission, but Bucky can't even imagine that being somewhat passionate. She also told him Steve had claimed that it hadn't been his first kiss since 1945, but no one knew more about this subject. Bucky tries not to think about it altogether.

"I don't think so," Bucky says, trying to sound casual. "I was pretty successful in making my crushes kiss me instead of anyone else."

Sam grins at him, but there's clearly something else next to his amusement. "You havin' a crush right now, Buck? You can tell me, y'know, I'm pretttty good at setting people up."

"Thank you, but…"

"Ohhhhh you  _got_ one! Who is it? Do I know them?"

Bucky doesn't miss how Sam specifically doesn't address any gender and he couldn't put into words how happy he's about that even if he tried to.

"Look, the photos!," Bucky says, grateful for the five minutes being over, and he jumps up to retrieve them from the booth. They look ridiculous, but the pictures are of a great quality, just like Bucky remembers them from the 40s, back when one picture was 15 cents and all a photobooth could even do.

It's that moment when Steve calls, asking where they are so they can meet up because he's done with the exhibition, and Bucky tells him to meet them at the post office so he too can think of funny things to write on postcards for everyone they left at home. Especially Coulson.

Sam is suspiciously silent after Bucky has hung up, while deciding on postcard motives, and while sitting down on one of the tables to start writing.

"If we write 'Dear Phil', will Coulson think we're making fun of him?," Bucky asks, and when Sam doesn't answer, he looks up to him from the card. Sam's grin bodes ill.

"Please stop looking at me like that, it's a bit scary."

"You know, as a counselor, I spent a lot of my time analyzing people to make them talk to me about things that make them uncomfortable. Okay, mostly it was about PTSD and I know you kinda don't wanna talk to me about  _that_ – even though I totally would, man, if you ever wanna talk about it, y'know, I'm here. … Anyway. I know that look, bro."

Bucky raises an eyebrow. Look?

"We've all had a crush on Steve at some point, man. No one will admit it, but I just  _know_ . He's a good boy. He's handsome. He's got a really big heart. He doesn't judge, he's a sarcastic little shit sometimes, but he just wants to fight the bullies–"

"–I know all of this," Bucky says quietly.

"Yeah, I… kinda got lost there, sorry. What I mean is… of all people, Steve cares about you the most, man. He skipped Christmas just to search for you, even after I quit this special 'Find-Bucky-Mission' halfway through."

Bucky's lost for words, and Sam just keeps talking. His voice is soft now, he unintentionally slipped into counselor speech, and it's… soothing, somehow. Bucky doesn't know how Sam does this, but he really,  _really_ wants to pick up on that PTSD-talk offer from earlier.

"You're the only one who knew him before everything, you probably know all his past sicknesses by heart even. And hell, I've got pretty good ears, man, I  _heard_ you talking last night and this morning. If that's not blatant flirting then I dunno what is."

Bucky still hopes he has unlearned how to blush. His eyes flicker back at the empty postcard in front of him and he suddenly wishes Sam would stop speaking.

"Let me tell you a secret that Natasha told me… okay, maybe it's not a secret, but if she hasn't told you yet… At one point when she asked him about… current relationships, he just said 'It's hard to find someone with shared experiences', and y'know, of course. That was before anyone knew you were still alive."

He stops there, and Bucky feels him staring, but he stoically keeps his eyes on the postcard.

"You're both veterans, you've got shared experiences," he says through gritted teeth. He really needs to relearn how to conceal his feelings.

"Whoa, whoa, whoaaaa, stop right there," says Sam and takes the pen that Bucky's been gripping out of his hand. "Look at me, Bucky."

When their eyes meet, Sam is smiling again. "You can't really keep yourself from having a crush on freakin' Captain America, okay. I'm fine now, I learned pretty quickly that he doesn't care for relationships very much, and I… feel pretty comfortable in my tent right now." Sam's wiggling eyebrows are unmistakable. Oh.  _Oh._

"This… how do you say? Escalated quickly."

Sam shrugs. He looks incredibly proud of himself. "It just kinda happened. … And, hey. Sorry I forced you to talk to me about this. But as I said, I'm pretttttty good at setting people up."

"Setting up who?," a voice sounds behind them, and Bucky thanks whatever deity about Steve's perfect timing. He really didn't want this to get any more awkward.

"Look, the photos!" Bucky shoves the strip into Steve's hands as he sits down next to him, and Steve is so thrilled about the pictures that he completely forgets about his first question.

"Can I keep one of them? Or all of them?"

"One," Sam and Bucky say in unison. "And one for each of us… and one to send with the postcard," Sam decides. Steve is over the moon.

  
  


It's ridiculous how proud Steve is of making everyone see artists just for the sake of their names. Bucky admits that he does enjoy Paul Buchanan, and it probably wasn't the worst idea ever, but he also makes Steve promise to go and see Seasick Steve with him on Saturday.

Thor and Tony, for whatever reason, seem to be only tipsy, and Tony keeps complaining about the quality of festival beer (which Thor finds magnificent), so they all end up drinking cocktails instead. Thor is overly excited about the colors in a Tequila Sunrise, Tony sticks to Long Island Iced Teas, Steve drinks whatever tickles his fancy because he can't get drunk anyway and Bucky… well, Bucky tries everything on the menu and is drunk in under an hour.

Getting back to the campsite to catch up on dinner (which they should have had  _before_ getting drunk, maybe), they stumble upon Bruce sitting in the open space in front of their tents, surrounded by a bunch of long-haired, barefoot people, deep in meditation. 

"Friends!," Thor booms, arms wide, as he approaches the group with long steps and drops down on the ground next to them.

Bruce doesn't even bat an eyelash, he keeps his eyes closed and his body in place. "My group has returned," he says to his new-won acquaintances, five heads turning at them.

"Oh my god, you're Bruce  _Banner_ ," one of the girls says in shock as she realizes. "And you're… holy  _shit_ ."

Tony sighs, and everyone who hasn't realized what's going on at least recognizes Iron Man.

"You never told me how strong that weed was, man," a guy in a colorful tunic grins.

"We're actually real," says Tony as if he was surprised himself. "Welcome to our Bonding Time Adventure. You wanna stay for dinner? I think we brought a grill."

  
  


It's surprisingly easy to converse with actual, well,  _fans_ . Bucky thinks at least Magnolia, the girl who first recognized them all, may have an idea who Bucky actually is, but she knows well enough not to ask. Instead, she has started braiding flowers into Natasha's hair while the other girl of the group is busy making a flower crown for Thor. This is what it must be like to have real friends, Bucky thinks, lounging in his camping chair, trying to eat with one hand while Steve is holding his arm, drawing on the inside of his forearm with a black pen.

Someone keeps giving him beer, and even though the food had somewhat sobered him before, he's tipsy again in no time. Steve finishes the drawing on his arm and proceeds to make scribbles of the group in his sketchbook. Bucky looks down on the artwork on his skin. There's a lot on his arm to see: 'Jerk' in finest calligraphy writing, a trail of little stars along one of his veins, 'Take the stupid with you' in Steve's usual messy handwriting, a pretty realistic drawing of Dumbo, the three O's from the Bonnaroo logo and right below his elbow, there's a wing that Bucky recognizes much too well. He doesn't remember much from the SSR, but from the pictures he's seen at the Smithsonian, he knows he used to wear a wing just like that stitched to his sleeve while fighting in the Howling Commandos. This is too much nostalgia even for Bucky to process.

"You're the worst," he mumbles, but Steve only smiles without looking up from his scribbles.

Bucky lets Magnolia – who keeps telling him she wants to be called Maggie, please, she can't stand her stoner parents' name choice – give him a tiny braid as well. She insists on putting in at least a daisy, and reluctantly, Bucky agrees. But only because Steve is smiling at him so stupidly.

Bucky's gaze wanders around the group, stops at Bruce and Thor who are trying to identify the flowers used for the god's crown, at Natasha, who's studying the programme while eating, at Tony and four of Bruce's new friends playing cards, and finally rests on Clint and Sam who seem to be completely wrapped up in the conversation they're having, sharing a blanket to sit on. Maybe Bucky is more drunk than he thought he was, or maybe their hands really  _are_ that close together, and maybe Sam's knee  _is_ resting on Clint's thigh, and maybe his thoughts are interrupted by Steve gently poking his shoulder—

Steve turns his sketchbook for Bucky to see his drawing, and he really has to stifle his laugh as he realizes: Steve has drawn the exact scene, only with Clint and Sam sitting in a nest in a tree together, speech bubbles saying 'Caw' and 'Caw caw', and the title simply saying 'Bird Friends' next to the quickly scribbled date in the corner. Bucky cough-laughs and steals Steve's pen, striking through the 'friends' and making the rest into 'Love Birds'. Steve's eyes go wide and his cheeks turn a light shade of pink, but he nods in agreement as he glances over at their bird friends. He adds a heart between their speech bubbles and closes the sketchbook quickly.

  
  


They're back on the main festival site because someone insisted on seeing Kanye West, who apparently is a rapper no one really likes but everyone finds funny enough to watch. Bucky gets bored really quickly – he doesn't like that music and there's way too many people around him to be comfortable – and follows Thor to a beer tent when something catches his eye. He stares at the booth for a long time until someone accidentally runs into him and he focuses again. He's drunk enough to do this. He will regret it tomorrow morning, but right now, it feels like the best idea ever. He wants to feel alive. But he's probably going to kill someone if he goes through it alone.

"Hey buddy, give me that drink. Down in one, yes?"

"YES!," Thor booms and of course, he has his drink finished in no time. Bucky fights with his beer, drops his cup, and drags his divine friend to his planned destination. Thor is thrilled by the idea and he gladly holds Bucky's hands through the torture.

  
  


_Where are you_

_Are you okay?_

_Where's thor??_

_If he drank you under the table i swear he's in trouble_

_Bucky seriously where are you two???_

"Shit."

"What is it, friend?" Thor hasn't been happier in the last month, or so it seems, and Bucky can't really feel bad about it. He has kind of ignored his phone going off about ten times in the past hour, five messages and five calls, and as it turns out, Thor has left his phone in his tent by accident.

"Do you think this is funny??," Steve rages as he runs up to them before they can even start searching for the group. "I looked for you everywhere!"

Thor puts both his hands on Steve's shoulders. "Calm down, my friend. It appears I have left my telephone in my tent, and I apologize. Bucky was in no state to answer your message or call, you must know. He is a brave man."

Steve couldn't look more confused, but he's not even angry anymore. "What happened?"

"I'm drunk, that happened," Bucky grins. "You'll hate me for it, but I kinda got the worst and best idea ever and forced Thor to help me out. This is all my fault."

"It is my fault I allowed you to drink as much as me, my friend!," Thor insists, but Bucky waves him off.

"No, really, I think I needed an adrenaline rush. I blame the alcohol," he says while slowly rolling up his sleeve to reveal a fresh tattoo covered in plastic wrap.

"They had a booth! I didn't kill anyone! Sorry more of your drawing is gone now, they needed to clean up the area…"

Steve grabs Bucky by his metal arm and drags him to the nearest food stand, into the light. All that's left from the drawing is the RK of 'jerk' and the beginning of the star trail. And standing out in stark contrast to the pale skin, there's the SSR wings in fresh black ink. Steve stares at it for a long time, and with every second he's silent, Bucky thinks worse of the idea. He was so, so dumb to do this. God knows what could have snapped in him as soon as someone put a needle to his arm. Stupid. Extremely—

"Well, too bad you're not healing as quickly as I do," Steve smirks and drops Bucky's arm. "This is ridiculous, but I'm glad you didn't get the 'Jerk' tattooed. It wasn't really my best work."

"Pfff," Bucky says, but it's a load off his mind to see that Steve's not mad at all. "Punk."

"How long do you need the wrap to be on?"

"Two to 24 hours… I think I'll just sleep with it and take it off tomorrow morning."

Thor appears between them.

"Oh!!" Bucky remembers. "But look at what Thor got himself!! I'm surprised I didn't need to wrestle him down, the last time someone tried to put needles in him – from what I heard – he had to be tied to the bed afterwards."

Thor smiles the broadest smile and proudly pulls his t-shirt over his head. Okay, there is no need to strip, but the detailed drawing of Mjölnir on his chest is much easier to inspect this way.

"Wow, this is actually… really nice."

"It healed immediately!!," Thor booms. "A drink on that!"

Indeed, the tattoo artist was more surprised about Thor's healing abilities than about Bucky's metal hand (he most likely took it for a silly costume, and the rest of the arm was covered by the sleeve anyway), saying he'd never seen anything like it before. And he most likely would never again.

"Don't you think you had enough drinks? And would you care to get dressed again?," Steve asks politely and Thor agrees.

  
  


Turns out half of the team has already wandered to another stage and they decide to simply scatter for the night and return to their camp whenever they feel like it.

For reasons unknown, Steve and Bucky end up in what Steve informs him are 'fatboys': a type of what Steve calls 'bean bag', big bags filled with little polystyrene balls that are by far the most comfortable thing Bucky has ever sat in. He could probably fall asleep with the breeze brushing his face, lively chatter from other visitors around them, and the steady bass of bands playing nearby. He could, if Steve wasn't reading out every single biography of every single artist playing in the last hours they have left of the programme.

" _The fact that Mastodon has received public praise from respected icons from Metallica to The Melvins, The Flaming Lips_ – hey, they're playing too, I saw that – _and CeeLo Green and back, they’ve been humbled … pushing musical boundaries … each consecutive album has transcended the one before … growing up in crime-infested Los Angeles in the 1970s and 1980s, Ice Cube learned how to navigate a world … “Fuck Tha Police” … masterfully juxtaposed against the searing social commentary on such selections as “I Wanna Kill Sam” –_ what?? _– At around the one-minute mark of his first Grammy acceptance speech in 2012, it became clear that Skrillex doesn’t feel isolated from his peers … physical manifestation of this intent and more plans are underway to construct several high-end recording studios … bring positivity into the world through art and expression …_ These all sound horribly boring. Bucky? … Bucky?? "

"I'm awake… kind of," Bucky yawns. "I, I follow, I follow you."

"Did you just make a popcultural reference?" Steve sits up with bright eyes.

Bucky chuckles and sinks a bit further into his bean bag. "Maybe. I don't even like that song very much."

"I'm proud of you."

Bucky snorts. "Do you know why I'm not laughing on the picture you kept of Sam and me? Because he tried to tell me a pun I already knew. Tomato family. The one from _Pulp Fiction_."

"Ohhhh god. Sam loves that movie. I can't believe that's the best pun he could think of…"

"He didn't really have much time."

"I wish you'd have smiled," Steve sighs, retrieving the picture from his pocket and looking at it – well, if Bucky would allow himself to think like that – longingly.

"We can do it again, together, and you'll think of the best joke you ever heard. Make me smile."

"Yes, let's do it." Steve turns around with a smile. He's almost on his feet, he's so excited.

"If you get me out of this thing first," Bucky groans. He has no idea how to get up anymore, it's like the bag is eating his body alive. Creepy.

Steve only grins and yes, Bucky should have known he was going to be thrown over Captain America's shoulder. He really, really should have. And if that wasn't embarrassing enough, Steve starts singing while heading for the general direction of the post office.

"Come up and see me, make me smiiiiiiile…"

"Shut up or put me down."

"Or do what you want, running wiiiiiiiild…"

"Steve."

"You spoilt the game, no matter what you sayyyyyy…"

"St–"

"Dodododododododo!"

"Steve!"

"For only metal!! What a bore…"

"…"

"Bluuuuuue eyes lalala, how come you tell so many lieeeeees?"

"Stop it."

"Okay."

Steve puts Bucky down and starts walking again. He's unbelievably lively.

"What the hell was that?"

"Steve Harley! Oh man, I wish he was playing, too. I love that song."

"Of course… Steve…," Bucky grumbles.

"You did this to yourself, Bucky. You said 'make me smile' and I thought of the song." Steve doesn't stop smiling and it's almost impossible for Bucky to keep up with his walking pace.

"Can you not run away from me, you… dickhead?"

Steve stops dead in his tracks. "Did you just call me a dickhead?"

"Uhm… yeah. Sorry."

Steve only laughs. " _You_ are the dickhead. Come on. Catch me if you can." And he starts running.

  
  


Bucky catches up with him just before the post office, when Steve doesn't even count on him anymore and has slowed down.

"On your back!," yells Bucky and tackles Steve from behind, bringing him down.

"Oof," Steve grunts with his face buried in the grass. "You win this round."

Bucky hums satisfied and gets up. "I sure hope so." He ignores the stares from everyone around. "Oh, I haven't seen your face this dirty in forever. I've missed this," he remarks with a look at Steve, who scrambles at his feet and drags Bucky into the photobooth.

"You have any coins?"

Bucky finds enough half dollars in his pocket to feed the slot.

"Wait. We should consider what we do before our time runs out," Bucky suggests as he tries to fit his butt next to Steve's on the little stool.

"First of all, this is not gonna work," Steve says, pulling Bucky on his lap. " _This_ works."

For the third time today, Bucky hopes he has unlearned how to blush.

"Just put them in, Buck. We'll think of something."

'Something' turns out to be really spontaneous things like Steve wrapping his arms around Bucky like he was a stuffed toy and Bucky pretending to be disgusted by it or Steve shoving Bucky's right arm close to the camera so his fresh tattoo is visible.

"You know, one time Clint asked Tony to borrow his phone because he left his somewhere else and Tony asked if Clint had to make a long-distance-caw."

The pun is so bad that Bucky can't stop laughing, it's so typically Tony, and he's still laughing as the third flash goes off.

"Was that it?"

"No, there's one mo– oh god, there's dirt everywhere!," Bucky notices when he properly looks at Steve. He tries wiping away a bit on the cheek, but it won't come off that easily. And when Steve suddenly says, "I'm really glad we're doing this", he just stops.

"What."

The flash goes off.

"What what?" Steve is smiling. That's when Bucky realizes his thumb is still on Steve's cheek, and he lets go quickly. Damn alcohol.

"Doing what?," he questions, getting up too fast to be considered normal. Steve follows him out of the booth and leans against the outer wall casually.

"This. Everything. The whole festival. Camping. Pictures–", he pats the booth, "barbeque… dancing… it's like a holiday."

"It is," Bucky agrees. "I thought about it yesterday… This is actually my first vacation. Ever."

Steve gapes, but after a moment of consideration, he nods. "Crazy. But yes. My first vacation was probably a weekend trip to Tony's beach house. It was nice, but completely different to this. I love this." His smile gets bigger with every word. Bucky wishes he was sober.

  
  


"I want all of them."

"Don't even think about it, jerk." Steve slips the photo strip out of Bucky's fingers to examine them himself. Bucky sees how his smile fades upon looking at the last one. It's true, they look like they're about to kiss, and this is awkward and horrible because Bucky wishes they  _had_ , but then again knows it's better they didn't because that would be 5000 times more awkward. The first photo has Steve looking like he was 12 and won a stuffed Bucky Barnes at a fair, the second one is basically only Bucky's arm much too close and out of focus (of course), and in the third one Bucky is laughing out while Steve is chuckling to himself, looking at the camera. These are so much better than the ones he did with Sam and he's glad he doesn't have to send any of them away. It's almost painful to look at the last one, seeing that way Steve looked at him in that moment, saying he was glad they were 'doing this', with the most honest and gentle smile and Bucky's hand at his cheek. Seeing the two of them like that, Bucky almost believes what Sam said to him earlier. Almost.

"Okay,  _I_ want all of them."

"You can have the one with my arm, dickhead."

Steve snorts. "Is that a thing now?"

"Only if you want to."

"No, thank you."

"Okay,  _punk_ ."

Steve chuckles lightly. "That's more like it."

  
  


"That was by far the creepiest thing I've ever witnessed, and I have witnessed a lot."

"It's almost traumatic."

"Almost."

None of them had expected a South African combo to be as weird as Die Antwoord turned out to be, and there's probably a good reason they were playing at 2 in the morning, to a crowd of drunk and high people. Bucky doesn't wish to see this ever again, and Steve seems to be just as taken aback from it as him, even now, as they're approaching their campsite.

"If I'd known something like this existed in the 21st century I'd have thought twice about accepting my fate as a thawed supersoldier," Steve says, still going back to the subject even the second time they enter their tent, after returning from brushing their teeth at the PODs.

"Like you had a choice."

"True," Steve sighs. "Do you think everyone else is in bed already?"

Bucky shrugs, trying to take off his shirt without damaging the plastic wrap around his arm. "There's no light on, but I think I can hear Thor snoring? Who knows. I would expect him to stay up all night. I know his phone is still in his tent." He puts on his long-sleeved sleeping shirt carefully, resisting the urge to pull off the plastic already. Tomorrow will be safer.

It feels too good to join Steve under the covers, like he didn't have to wait for this to happen for half an eternity last night, like this is how they're supposed to work together. Bucky should have gotten used to being the little spoon by now, but he can almost feel Steve shivering and coughing in his arms the way he did 70 years ago. He can feel it like a phantom limb. With no explanation given, Bucky takes Steve's hand lying loosely on the mattress and gently pulls it up to his chest, covering it with his own human hand. And if Steve can feel Bucky's heartbeat speeding up a notch under the touch, he doesn't let on.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songlist:
> 
> Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel – Make Me Smile (Come Up And See Me)


	3. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with the run and the glitter

 

When he wakes, Bucky knows something's off – Steve is still there, but suspiciously loud whispering is going on in front of their tent. Someone is arguing.

"You could have asked us first!"

"Come on, killjoy, it's gonna be fun! It's not about pace, alright, it's about–"

"Yeah, yeah, well, wake them and see how wonderful they think your idea is."

It's Sam and Tony.

"What is it, Wilson, you think you'll be left behind?" That's Clint. Bucky almost chuckles when he thinks back to 'bird friends'.

"Just… shut up."

Bucky slowly realizes that Steve's hand is exactly where he left it last night, pressed flat to his chest, and since Bucky has turned to lie on his stomach in the course of the night, Steve's covering half of his body like he's fallen asleep during a wrestle. Bucky doesn't want to get up, really, and his inner clock tells him it must still be before 7 AM: the tent is not completely heated up yet and the campsite is suspiciously quiet. Nevertheless, if anyone is going to wake them up, he better get out of Steve's grip right now. And it's way easier than Steve trying to leave Bucky: he barely reacts when Bucky gently peels himself out and rolls over, just in time. Someone is already zipping the tent open carefully.

"I'm coming out," says Bucky through the gap and almost jumps into Tony's arms. Tony flinches.

"I didn't know you were awake."

"I'm always awake," Bucky replies and stands upright. "Anyone care to tell me what Tony did that everyone's so mad at him?"

"No one's mad at me! Except Angry Bird here," Tony says, slapping Sam's biceps with the back of his hand.

"No one yet," Sam mumbles, and then: "He signed us up for Roo Run. Which starts in two hours. And," he turns to Tony, "I thought Clint was Angry Bird."

"Whoever's angrier," Tony shrugs.

With a rustle, Steve emerges from the tent, all bed-hair and confusion. "Did someone say run?"

"Tony signed us up for this run at 9 and thought it was okay to wait until two hours prior to inform us about it," Sam explains.

"Brilliant" mumbles Steve, and then, louder, "all of us?"

"Actually, everyone but Bruce. He's gonna take the pictures."

Bruce, sitting in front of his tent cross-legged, clears his throat. "I don't want anyone to get in trouble. I mean, I… I'm not trained anyway–"

"No one's blaming you, Jekyll. If it helps you, you are all gonna be faster than me anyway. Without the suit I'm… what again, Cap?" Tony smiles at Steve, but it's a bitchy smile.

"Don't," says Steve. "I'm getting ready." And he retreats into the tent.

  
  


Bucky had run a few laps against Steve before they ever moved in at Stark Tower, it had been Steve's method to get Bucky back on track and to _do_ things with him without having to talk. Bucky didn't talk for weeks, but just running kind of helped, especially because Steve never got tired of it. They ended up running miles and miles, without a word spoken. 

The first movie Steve made Bucky watch when they had moved in was  _Forrest Gump_ , and he and Natasha explained every funny scene about world history Bucky would never have questioned to him. Bucky likes that movie, and thinking back to it, the running scenes probably had an impact on him. 

So he is kind of trained, and they do a quick pre-run on Steve and Sam's route from yesterday morning together, all seven of them (which Steve wins, of course, and they still haven't decided how he's going to manage  _not_ to win later, because clearly more people will recognize him if he does), while Bruce somehow makes (or buys) breakfast for everyone back at their tents: coffee, juice, croissants and toast.

Thor helps Bucky remove his plastic wrap and as they'd suspected, the tattoo is pretty much fully healed already. And looking at it sober, in daylight, Bucky finds it incredibly beautiful. And he knows Steve does, too, because Steve was never able to hide a smile when it came creeping up.

  
  


"Do you see what I'm seeing," Tony says as the group approaches the racetrack at 8:30. No one has really thought of any sportswear (or, god beware,  _uniforms_ ) to bring to a music festival, so Natasha ends up running in her yoga pants and a top, Tony – as it was his idea – has brought trackpants and running shoes, Sam and Steve wear whatever they wore last morning, Thor is running in  _jeans_ and topless because he has no idea of anything, and Clint and Bucky stick together, just staying in pyjamas because why the hell not, it's probably the most comfortable clothes they brought.

What Tony is referring to is clear for everyone to see: the majority of the runners have arrived in silly costumes, because as already said, it's not about winning but about having fun. It's only three miles after all. Bucky is still staring at the group they spotted when Tony is already busy giving out his previously collected race bibs and  _t-shirts_ to the rest of the gang. Tony must have gotten his hands on these when he was wandering the festival grounds alone with Bruce. He then proceeds to show all the registrations to the festival staff, checking them in, but Bucky is still awestruck by that group of people dressed at The Avengers. They even have a big green hulk. Their Iron Man is clad in a kind of skin-tight body suit (Bucky later learns that it's called a 'morphsuit'), their Captain America at least has a shield, their Black Widow is wearing a ridiculous red wig (and she's running in all black, which is quite impressive), their Hawkeye is fumbling with an arrow that seems to be made of aluminium foil, and they even have a Hulk (Bucky is sure this is the closest he's ever been to seeing The Hulk, since Bruce has never transformed in front of him so far), green and muscly and with shredded clothes.

"This specimen is wearing my armor! I must either fight or befriend him!," Thor exclaims, but Steve steps in his way.

"It's okay, buddy, he's just dressing up as you. A costume. Thought you'd have seen enough of those by now, after New York."

Thor relaxes, nodding. "Yes, you are right, my friend. Then I shall befriend him, for his costume looks strikingly real!"

"That hammer's not, though," Sam remarks. "Probably tinfoil as well. When will people start dressing up as me?"

"Soon enough," Natasha smirks. "And they will spend hours on crafting those wings until they look real enough to wear them in public."

"Awesome!"

  
  


Everybody seems to have forgotten to tell Steve to stay as undercover as possible so they can spend the rest of the festival only recognized by people nearby, but the first thing one Captain says to the fake Captain is 'nice costume, dude' – with that sunshine-smile, of course – and in that moment, Bucky swears he's afraid the runner might lose his eyeballs, he's staring so much.

"Holy f–"

And the pistol fires, Bucky's heart skips a beat, and he shakes off his Winter Soldier flashbacks as he starts to run, and Steve shouts 'BYE' to his copycat before racing off, leaving each and everyone behind.

"Didn't we tell him not to win??," Bucky yelps as he catches up with Sam.

"He's probably gonna lap us and pretend like nothing happened, that fucker."

Turns out there are some pretty well-trained people that aren't exactly easy to catch up with, and when Steve indeed laps Sam, Bucky and Clint, who are running side-by-side now, he has Tony riding on his back, shouting obscenities at no one in particular. Bucky is not sure if Tony even  _wants_ that ride, but he has to put up with it whether he likes it or not. Bucky has no idea where Natasha is, and Thor is somewhere behind them, happily chatting to his own copy whose face is probably the most awestruck Bucky has ever seen anyone.

  
  


All of the group make it to the finish at about the same time, except for Thor who has fallen back to chat with his double and Steve and Tony who come first but get disqualified for lapping. Tony is appalled, but Steve laughs it off and says it's hard not to win, so this is actually a success. It starts raining just as they stay for the award ceremony. Since it's not about pace, Thor is the only one of them who gets a prize for being loyal to his #1 Fan (Bucky swears they just made that one up to give a prize to Thor). It's two VIP tickets for an exclusive viewing booth just by the sound and light engineer tower in front of What Stage. Thor barely holds them in his hand when Tony already snatches them away and gives them to Bruce. And Thor can't stop denying the tickets when Bruce tries to give them back to him.

  
  


All of them are pretty soaked by the time they arrive at the tents and it's completely out of the question who's gonna take a hot shower now – everyone is. Bucky is disgusted that they take money for showering, given how much VIP tickets would cost for ordinary middle-class people already. But at least he doesn't have to worry about his arm getting looks from people in the communal showers, because there are none on the VIP campsite. There are cubicles and Bucky is extremely grateful for that. He has to imagine them all in communal showers with regular festival guests and wonders how many of these guys have dreamt of seeing Captain America's dick, then curses himself for being smug about having had the privilege to see it often enough before he… didn't die. He tries thinking about something else altogether, about his damn luck about having Steve as a best friend, someone who saved him from living as a mind-wiped killing machine for 100 more years and being cryofrozen every now and then. He thinks about Sam's offer to talk about his past, he's gonna accept it, he thinks about Natasha and how he never apologized for shooting a bullet through her and how he doesn't have to because she knows it wasn't him. It was the Winter Soldier. He thinks about the scar he left and how Natasha once told him she wouldn't wear bikinis anymore. He definitely has to give her something back for doing this to her. Anything.

  
  


It's still pouring when Bucky emerges from the shower and only really stops when the group has finished a second breakfast before hitting the festival grounds. Crossing the site, Bucky has a quick talk with Sam about his offer. They decide to take that on when they're back home. Bucky ignores Steve's curious glances, he doesn't really feel like talking about this again. Yes, Steve would approve of Bucky getting help, but it doesn't really need saying. Bucky just wants to enjoy his first vacation as much as possible, and that includes putting fun first and dealing with his past later.

The first act of their planned schedule is Seasick Steve, and Tony can't shut up about how he is sure this guy on stage is about Steve and Bucky's age and are we sure our supersoldier isn't actually a robot and that's why he's still so young and well preserved? Are we sure this dinosaur up there isn't actually the real Steve?

Natasha grabs Bucky's wrist even before he moves to punch Tony in the face with his human fist. The touch calms Bucky immediately and he unclenches his fist with a sigh. Natasha smirks and even though Bucky can barely see anything behind her oversized sunglasses and the shadow the sunhat casts on her face, he knows she's amused to a certain degree. Her body language, however, tells him she's also prepared for anything to happen, he knows her heels can probably still kill a man if necessary, even hidden under the skirt that goes down to her ankles, just long enough to not hang into the mud.

No one was really prepared for mud, so the group collectively had to purchase rubber boots at the festival store. Bucky thinks he'd have also survived with his usual shoes – seeing as Nat decided to wear _heels_ of all things – until he steps into an ankle-deep puddle that would probably have soaked every other shoe to the socks. Bucky is grateful for rubber boots, but less grateful for the mud. The sun is already blazing down again, making the mud dry pretty quickly, but somehow they still pass a puddle in which people are… bathing, as it seems. Most of them are so muddy Bucky can't even tell if they're human beings anymore. A girl carrying a bowl of mud approaches them, she's a lot less muddy than the other zombies, and asks if she could give them warpaint, too. There's fine smudges of mud across her cheeks and dots under her eyes, as well as some streaks on her forehead.

"I think we had enough warpaint for a lifetime," Steve chuckles and Bucky tries hard not to punch him. Not now, with people around. He does regret the warpaint a lot, but he also wants to see Steve suffer for that comment.

"No, actually," he says, holding on to Steve's arm and stopping him from walking any further, "Stevie has always loved drawing on people and I think it's time for people to draw on him for a change."

The girl is more than happy and Steve can't help but submit and lets her paint stripes on his face.

"Why don't you add some stars?," Bucky asks with a grin, but Steve grumbles 'no', before kindly asking the girl if it's okay if he paints 'this jerk' himself. She's still happy, and possibly high anyway.

"You were asking for it," Steve says as he draws a star on Bucky's right cheek, just the outline. It's already drying on Bucky's skin and will probably be easy to rub off in no time.

"You will pay for this," Bucky grumbles.

"Oh, I do this for free!," the girl giggles, but that's not what Bucky means. Steve will pay for this humiliation of wearing another star when it was hard enough to get rid of his last one.

  
  


Bucky's time has come later in the day, after another barbecue with Bruce's new stoner friends, after everyone has gotten to admire Bucky and Thor's tattoos, after the mud is washed off again and they're back to wearing normal footwear, after Tony and Thor have gotten him tipsy again, after Tony sent a picture of himself and Bruce up on the light and sound tower with the stage in the background to everyone, after Natasha kinda broke a guy's arm because he was groping her in the crowd, after Sam lost his mind over Steve and Bucky's photobooth pictures when Bucky showed them to him in a quiet minute alone, after Bucky kept his promise to go down that Bigass Water Slide with Sam and everyone decided to join them.

So they're wet, and even at 7 PM it's still too warm to function and the metal arm gets so hot not even a wet cloth covering it is helping.

"What if we just paint it?," Bucky asks as they pass a booth with tables full of teenage girls decorating fabric bags with neon colors, feathers and glitter. They all look the same, all flowers in their long hair, cut-off tops and denim shorts, some of them in colorful warpaint.

"Do you want a pink arm?," Steve retorts, but he's already pulling Bucky closer to the booth and they sit down as soon as there's a free space.

"Maybe something less eye-catching would be fine," Bucky says as Steve is already grabbing for a bunch of colors.

"I could mix you the same color as your other arm…?"

"If I wanted the disguise I'd have gotten the camotech that was so nicely offered to me."

"Alright," Steve says defensively. "Can I paint every link in another color then?"

"Do what you want," Bucky says and pushes a wet strand out of his face. The water slide might have been a bit too much fun (they went three times).

"Excuse me," he says as a staff member passes them. "How well does this come off again?"

The girl shrugs. "I think it's acrylic, so it should come off your skin with water and soap if you want to get rid of it. It's not really meant to be used as  _bodypaint_ …" She gives Steve, who's enthusiastically painting Bucky's arm red and white, a weird look. "Do you want a totebag to decorate?"

"No thank you!," Steve says quickly without even looking up. "I've found my favorite canvas, I think."

Bucky stays silent as the staff girl leaves, and long after that. Favorite canvas.

"Hey, Steve."

"Mhmm?" He doesn't look up from filling the last links of Bucky's arm with blue.

"Steve."

"Yes, Bucky?"

"Steeeeve."

"What is–" He falls silent as Bucky throws a handful of silver glitter in his face. If looks could kill Bucky would probably drop dead for good this time.

"Was that really necessary?"

"I think so," Bucky nods, calmly letting more glitter fall on Steve's head. It would be impossible to get out, since Steve's hair is still quite wet as well.

"Well  _I_ think–," Steve says, dangerously calm, putting away his brush and wiping the glitter out of his eyes, "–this means war!" And he slaps both his hands against Bucky's face, leaving glitter there, rubbing it in nicely.

"You really are the Star-Spangled Man now," Bucky says dryly, making Steve laugh so much he almost paints the wrong link as he resumes his work. Or tries to. With a bat of his glittery (and unnaturally long) eyelashes, he looks up at Bucky, the softest smile on his lips, and quietly says, "I'm glad to have you back."

Bucky smiles back, but he simply can't look at Steve as long as he wishes to, so his eyes wander down to his arm, covered in red, white and blue stripes, down to the wrist.

"I never said this because I never thought about it enough… but… I'm actually glad to be back. Even after all these things, all the… deaths. Our presumed deaths. Everyone we killed as well. We're here, and younger than we should be, more alive than we should be…" Bucky shakes his head. "Do you ever think this is still a dream?" He glances back at Steve, who is still looking at him attentively.

"I did, for a long time. Then it just died down," Steve answers, puts away his brush since he's finished painting. "I think nothing could surprise me anymore in this world, I've really seen it all. You can make people into superheros, some people accidentally mutate into something we never thought would exist, there's whole other worlds in space with more advanced technology than this earth has, you can open portals to those worlds, there are skyscraper-tall aliens trying to kill you and… helicarriers. I wouldn't be surprised if one day, we could actually beam ourselves somewhere else."

Bucky nods, but Steve is not finished yet: "The only thing I knew I would never see again was… everything I lost in my old life, really. You. Our apartment. Peggy. My sketchbooks." He laughs. "I mean, I don't miss our apartment that much, or the books, and Peggy barely recognizes me anymore, but I couldn't be sure she would be dead when I woke up. With you, though… you were only in my memories, I knew I wouldn't get you back." He wipes his hand over his face and it comes back glittery. Steve sighs. "And then… I did! How can I  _not_ think this is a dream? You saved my life when you were supposed to kill me, I  _knew_ there was a chance I could get you back at my side again." He smiles. "And here you are. I always expect you to be gone when I wake up, but you're always there."

Bucky chuckles, tearing his eyes off Steve's face. He could never stand those stupid blue eyes, and Steve has always been excellent in staring people down. He doesn't do it often, but when he does, it's intense.

"You know what's weird?"

"The fact we're talking about our feelings on a table with fifteen drunk teenage girls? Yes."

Bucky rolls his eyes, looking back at Steve eventually. "No… I mean yes, that too. But… I've probably slept in the same bed as you on more nights than I haven't."

Steve frowns, but it soon turns into a grin. "You probably have."

"And I'm past 90."

"And most people your age forget things. You remember things."

Bucky laughs. "I'm glad I do."

"I'm glad you do, too. Otherwise I'd probably be dead now.  _Again._ "

Bucky throws another handful of glitter in Steve's face.

  
  


It's getting dark when they gather at the main stage to watch a band from Brooklyn called Fun., and while waiting for the set to begin, Bucky stands with his back to the stage for as long as possible because there's a great sunset behind them. He has watched a lot of sunsets while he was on the run, and probably more sunrises than he wanted to, and they are so much more beautiful when you're not in a hurry. Tony and Bruce have stayed on the campsite for unknown reasons, Thor has some small teenage girl on his shoulders so she can see something, and Clint is probably feeling better than he looks right now. Bucky has been informed the death glare is actually his 'resting face' and he is not really plotting to kill someone at the moment. But then again, who knows. When he made fun of Steve and Bucky's glittery faces, he was definitely not resting.

Fun. turn out to be quite entertaining, really good musicians, and from what Bucky can see on the huge screens (they're much too far away to see anything on stage), they also have a lot of fun performing. They mention Brooklyn in the song they open with, and then sing about bar fights, about being young (and everyone is singing along), there's a lovestory, a lot of interaction on stage, and most songs are about getting up again after falling down, good messages, beautiful messages, motivational messages. And then there's a song called  _Some Nights_ , as the singer announces, which raises a lot of voices, too. While listening to the lyrics, Bucky doesn't know if he gets sadder or if he just feels more  _understood_ .

'I'm still not sure what I stand for

What do I stand for?

Most nights, I don't know anymore'

Bucky swallows.

'This is it boys, this is war

What are we waiting for?

Why don't we break the rules already?'

Glancing over to Steve, he thinks it might affect him just as much. But Steve's expression remains unreadable.

'I try twice as hard and I'm half as liked

But here I come again to jack my style.

That's alright, I found a martyr in my bed tonight

She stops my bones from wondering just who I am'

Bucky wants to leave. He doesn't want a simple song to apply to him so much.

'And some nights I'm scared that you'll forget me again

Some nights I always win'

When an arm wraps around his shoulders, Bucky doesn't move. He lets Steve pull him closer, cherishes how Steve's thumb strokes his arm, and wraps his own around Steve's waist.

'When I look into my nephew's eyes

Man, you wouldn't believe the most amazing things

That could come from some terrible nights'

Bucky leans his head against Steve's shoulder, too tired for all of this. He did a run, was in the sun for too long, maybe drank a little too much, went on a water slide ride thrice, and the day is still not over. When Steve's hand goes up to ruffle his hair, Bucky sighs, trying to keep himself from wrapping his other arm around him as well. He's taken back to their ride home from Coney Island for a second, when Steve thought Bucky was asleep. The fact he's doing it right now, in public, means a lot to Bucky. He doesn't care that when Nat turns around to them, she holds back whatever she wanted to say and just smirks at them before turning back again. Bucky has a good eye for details; he sees that what she whispers in Sam's ear starts with 'Don't look now, but…' and that Sam would have looked back at them if she hadn't firmly stepped on his toe. He also sees that Sam is trying to stifle a hurt groan and at the same time gives Clint a punch that makes him spin his head around to Steve and Bucky. His face is still resting and Bucky really, really wishes he could conceal his emotions like Clint can. Maybe he should ask for lessons.

  
  


Thor persuades them to watch The Flaming Lips next because the girl on his shoulders said it was absolutely necessary and they wouldn't want to miss that live show. And really, it's beyond everything Bucky would have expected: there's confetti and costumes and huge balloons in every color and at one point, the singer gets into some kind of balloon as well. Bucky thinks he's dreaming as the guy starts _walking_ in this plastic bubble, walking over the crowd that's holding him up with combined forces.

"Steve…" Bucky tugs at his friend's arm while his gaze follows the bubble back on stage. "Am I on drugs?"

Steve laughs affectionately. "If you are, then I must be as well. Live music has definitely changed for the better." Bucky silently agrees. The fact that he lives to see things like this makes him dizzy.

They end up with confetti in their hair as well, too tired to do anything about it. Thor can't stop raving about the crazy show they've just seen as they're walking back to a VIP lounge before going to bed. Someone has decided they all need one for the road and it makes Bucky incredibly sleepy, so he's just listening to everyone's conversations. He's already slid against Steve's shoulder, blessing the soft muscles for making it so easy to fall asleep on. Just thinking about trying to cuddle up against old Steve's tiny, bony shoulder makes him frown. But then Steve wraps his arm around him and it's warm and protective and the music and conversations just lull him in while Steve draws random shapes on Bucky's shoulder with his index finger.

  
  


"проснись…"

Bucky stirs.

"проснись, подонок!"

Natasha's face is much too close as he opens his eyes eventually, and she pats his head with a sweet smile.

"Told you it would work," she smirks. "Good night, boys."

Bucky is not really receptive yet, and he's still pressed against Steve, his head propped against Steve's broad chest, however that happened. Natasha and the other guys are leaving, and Bucky wonders how long he's slept.

"I didn't want to wake you, really," Steve says quietly. "I'd have just carried you to bed, I guess. Sorry about that."

"S'okay," Bucky grumbles, suppressing a yawn. "We should just go to bed."

"What did she even say to you?"

"Called me a jerk," Bucky sighs. "That beaming thing you talked about… I'd really like that right now."

Steve chuckles and drags himself up from the sofa they'd sunk into. "C'mon up," he says, holding out his hands to Bucky, who takes them and let himself be pulled up.

"How long was I asleep?," he asks as they leave the lounge, Steve pulling Bucky with him by his hand.

"20 minutes, tops. It was really just one for the road, not ten."

"Who'd have guessed…"

They walk back to their tent in silence, holding hands, shoulders brushing, and it's so… so very alright. Bucky remembers Steve's hands being small and fragile, and he regrets not knowing how holding hands would have been back then. Probably a lot like being with a girl. He doesn't know. He doesn't need to know. Steve's grip is tight, but not too tight, and he only lets go to zip open the tent. There's still a light on in Bruce and Tony's tent, probably Tony working on his tablet, and Thor is talking to someone on the phone, sitting in a camping chair outside.

"And then he walked over all the fine folks' heads, Jane, I don't believe I have ever seen something like this with my own eyes! Is this typical for Midgardian live music? I must show it to you one day, you will not believe your eyes either…"

  
  


When they go to bed that night, Bucky first lies down on his back, but as Steve joins him, he turns to him whole. He doesn't want to spoon tonight, he wants Steve to be the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes, he wants to cherish the faint glitter on his face for a little longer, maybe run his hand over it to see if it sticks to him, he wants to be completely at ease with touching Steve, to brush the confetti out of his hair, and kiss him in the dark, quietly, carefully, for the rest of the night until he falls asleep.

All Steve does is look back at him calmly when Bucky's gaze runs over him, and nuzzles his face into his own hand, arm bent under his head.

"I feel dirty," Steve mumbles, wiping his face. "I don't think this stuff comes off without a shower." His hand doesn't even come back glittering anymore, it just keeps sticking to his face.

"Tomorrow," Bucky says.

"Yes, tomorrow."

"Yes."

Bucky is less tired now than he was before, and his last drink is still messing with his head, so he beds his head on Steve's arm as well. They're close like this, and Steve doesn't seem to mind, no, he slips his other arm around Bucky's waist and pulls him an impossible bit closer.

"You used to be so small," Bucky sighs. It's not an accusation or a happy realisation, it's just a fact stated out of nostalgia. "I could tuck you under my arm and carry you away. And now you just throw me over your shoulder and there's nothing I can do."

"Do you miss… my old–"

"Sometimes."

Steve bites his lip and breathes in deep. Bucky feels sorry immediately, but he had to say it.

"I miss _my_ old self, too. I mean this guy–", he wiggles the fingers of his cybernetic arm, "–is practical and all, but there's too many memories clinging to it. Some nights I wish it'd just fall off."

Steve puts his hand on the arm protectively, fingers curling around Bucky's wrist. "I like this guy. Even if it's just a spare part. You wouldn't reject a car with one different wheel cap, would you?" His hand wanders further down, palm sliding over the metallic knuckles, until their fingers entwine eventually.

"At least you can still get drunk," Steve remarks, and Bucky can't suppress a smile.

"It's not that great anymore when you're getting old, actually. Do you even remember what it's like?"

Steve slowly shakes his head. "Not really. I don't really need to, I'm pretty good with staying sober."

"Remember when–"

"–don't remind me of the Sazerac Incident if you were about to."

Bucky chuckles. "I wasn't… okay, I was."

But Steve is smiling at him like he's seeing him for the first time. "If you remember _that_ I'd almost think you're back for good, memory restored and all."

"Maybe I am," Bucky wants to say, but it comes out as a whisper.

"You will be," says Steve, eyes fixed on their entwined hands rather than Bucky's face. "Give it just another couple years or so, then you'll be okay… and we'll be laughing about this."

Bucky sighs. "I really want to believe that."

Steve looks sad, or maybe just worried, but his frown doesn't suit him well; it reminds Bucky too much of worse times they've had. How inappropriate would it be if Bucky tried kissing that frown away? Very, he decides, and instead, very reluctantly, withdraws his hand from Steves to smooth out the frown.

"You're not old enough to get all wrinkly," he says as an explanation, and Steve just bursts out laughing.

"Oh, trust me, I am," he snickers and pulls Bucky in, his arm so tightly wrapped around Bucky that Steve can tuck his hand between Bucky's right side and the mattress. "Maybe we're immortal," he whispers, and Bucky doesn't miss the childish excitement coming through with the words. "We've survived so much."

"And so many." Bucky flinches. "Sorry. … I destroyed the moment."

"No, you didn't," Steve promises. Bucky closes his eyes as Steve presses a kiss to his forehead. "I wouldn't want to be immortal anyway. Everyone I love dies."

"Thanks for reminding me," Bucky grumbles, but he moves even closer to Steve and nestles his face against Steve's chest.

"I lied," Steve whispers into the darkness after a moment of silence. "You'd still be there."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I got the Russian part right, if it doesn't make sense, kindly tell me! :)
> 
>  
> 
> Songs mentioned:
> 
> Fun. — One Foot  
> Fun. — Some Nights


	4. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with the nicknames.

Bucky wakes with a slightly spinning head and a warmth surrounding him whole, in some places hotter than in others. His t-shirt has ridden up at his back and Steve's hand is lying heavy on his naked skin, slippery from the sweat that had formed between the layers overnight or in the early morning hours.

Bucky could definitely get used to waking up like this, and he's eternally grateful for his body being so unused to human proximity that it doesn't connect this position with intimacy. Bucky knows he's woken up pressed to Steve with an aching erection more than one morning, but they were young back then, and somewhat innocent, and there's just no place for a situation like that right now. Bucky wouldn't know how to deal with it and Steve would… Steve would laugh it off while flushing deep red, probably, but that's not exactly ideal either.

Now that he's still asleep, Bucky takes the time to look Steve over thoroughly, take in every detail, every flaw, everything that makes him the person he is. He'd always thought that Steve's eyelashes were incredibly long and has mostly envied him, but thinking about it now, he'd rather look at them than wear them himself. The silver of the leftover glitter is standing out beautifully against Steve's flushed cheeks, there's some on his eyelid as well, and right at his hairline. There's a stray strand of hair sticking against his forehead and Bucky has to try hard not to sweep it back to where it belongs. He doesn't want to wake up this man while he's still so peaceful and calm, steady breaths and mouth curved to a slight smile. God, how he wishes he could just kiss these lips without feeling like a complete idiot, how he wishes he were _allowed_ to, and wouldn't have to think about it all the time. You'd think he could do whatever the hell he wants, now that there's no one to hold him back anymore, no one to wipe him or give him a mission or make decisions for him. But still, there are things he's not bold enough for.

Bucky's hand slides up Steve's chest and stays there for a while. That famous heart of gold is beating heavily under his palm and it's hard for Bucky to resist the urge to rest his forehead against it as well. Instead he turns away to lie on his back, and along with the motion, Steve's hand slides from his back to cross his belly. It's not really a better situation, and the tent just keeps heating up more and more with the sun rising high above them. Bucky can barely start to think about getting up and taking a shower, when Steve's hand curls around his side at the hem of his t-shirt, fingers covering the skin over his ribcage, and he grunts gently. Bucky doesn't dare to look back at him, he pretends to be still asleep though it's hard to not be with Steve's hands all over him, even if unintentionally.

Bucky knows that Steve is awake when his thumb rubs over Bucky's sweaty skin, a movement that's so calculated a sleeping person would never be able to do it. A nudge, yes, a twitch, of course, but no rub turning into serious strokes. Bucky has to turn around, he can't let Steve think he won't notice when it should be clear that he is, because every twitch, every tiniest movement wakes Bucky up, and Steve knows it.

And Steve… goddammit, that guy isn't even pretending to be asleep, he's looking at Bucky shamelessly, he's not… embarrassed or anything, he doesn't even move his hand for the first seconds, only slowly, after Bucky has stared at him long enough, he withdraws without taking his eyes off his friend. It's both arousing and scary, and definitely not what Bucky expected.

"Good morning," Steve smiles, like every morning, and Bucky shouldn't be concerned, but he is. He doesn't know what's happening. Or what has happened.

"I'm… gonna take a shower… or something. Wanted to do that last night. I'll just… yeah. Shower," he rambles and manages to quickly throw together some clothes and leave the tent before Steve can even react.

  


Thinking about it, time means something else when you're at a music festival. You have to keep schedules, but you're also there for four days with no responsibilities or work to do, you can do as you please as long as it doesn't hurt anyone, and the highlight is going to mark the ending of your playtime. Bucky remembers Sundays as resting days, as time killers that were dead as soon as they were born, he remembers thinking to himself at 4 PM, 'You didn't do anything all day'. They leave tomorrow and though it's still 24 hours to go, it feels like the end of… not an era, but a great time that should have been longer than just the few days.

Bucky tells Steve they need to take a proper vacation, and Steve agrees, he comes up with so many different ideas of when and where and how long to go and what to do that Bucky has to shut him up in the middle of it, saying it doesn't really matter where they go as long as he feels at home. He knows he will, anywhere they go, because Steve _is_ home. He doesn't tell him that.

  


He does think about it again when they're watching their first band of the day, Edward Sharpe and his band whose name Bucky forgot. They're playing early, before 3 PM, and Bucky, Steve, Thor and Bruce are the only ones who are interested in catching this concert. It's sunny and nice and there's smiles and sunglasses and arms all around, and Steve has bought a crêpe he keeps feeding Bucky with. The music is just as sunny and warm as the day is, the band has a male and a female singer, and Bucky is all at ease, until they play a slightly darker song which pulls him in right from the beginning. It sounds heavy and… old, like it could even be from the 40s. And what he hears gives him shivers.

'Black water drippin down your face

Mountains in reconstitutions embrace.

Guns and steel and the germs of love

Blow for blow in the world of mud'

He isn't sure if he's supposed to feel this bad, but 'guns and steel' is all it takes to make him uncomfortable.

'Guns and steel and the germs of love

Toe to toe for my aching heart'

Steve's hand curls around… his. It's the cybernetic arm, the weapon, the steel, but it's also his. His hand. They can't go back.

'Black water, spread your words on me

Waste me with a Bang

You know, for posterity'

Bucky clenches his teeth. It's just words, words can't hurt him. Not really. No one had the intention of writing this song to make him feel like this. It's just a stupid, stupid coincidence. He grips Steve's hand tightly, but not too tightly. He knows Steve had this amazing new bone structure, but he also knows what the metal arm can do. He doesn't want to test the strength too much.

They keep holding hands like it's not a big deal, like it's an everyday thing, until Bucky is completely relaxed, until Bucky is overwhelmed from the last song's message.

It's a song most of the people around Bucky seem to know, there's dancing and singing along, and it's light and happy with an exchange between the male and the female singer.

'Well, holy moly me oh my

You’re the apple of my eye

Girl, I've never loved one like you'

The male singer grins while turning around with his guitar as the girl sings:

'Man, oh, man, you're my best friend

I scream it to the nothingness

There ain't nothing that I need'

There's a smile on Steve's face as he watches, and Bucky feels his grip getting a little tighter around his hand.

All together, with the crowd singing the words back at them, it goes:

'Home, let me come home

Home is wherever I'm with you'

Bucky smirks; he can't believe this is happening now, the very day he thought of Steve being his home, the place he always returns to, bright like a beacon in the night, steady like a port in the storm, always there, always ready to give him shelter. And really, wherever Steve is, Bucky finds home, it's simple a that.

'I'll follow you into the park

Through the jungle, through the dark

Girl, I've never loved one like you'

Steve's chuckling to himself now, he's probably thinking the same as Bucky: this is too much of a coincidence.

'And in the streets you run afree

Like it's only you and me

Geez, you're something to see.'

Steve sings along with the next chorus. Bucky shakes his head with a smile, but he's tapping his feet and moves his head in tune, the closest he'll get to dancing to this music today.

Steve is still humming when they make their way to another stage.

  


"How about we finally take advantage of our VIP status and watch this from one of these exclusive viewing areas we've got access to?," Steve asks as they've left the Edward Sharpe crowd behind, heading towards What Stage.

"I'm not planning to come back here until someone forces me to. I promised to watch Elton John, but that's all you can make me do. There's also a yoga lesson in half an hour, I'll be busy there," Bruce explains, and Thor rather feels like joining the crowd and maybe searching for their Bird Friends. No one knows where Tony is, and Natasha is most likely staying with her boys, so Steve and Bucky are the only ones that climb the viewing area in front of What Stage which is being prepared for the following Arctic Monkeys set. There's not many people up here, although there's a huge mass of guests beneath them, gathering in front of the stage, stretching out behind the sound and light tower. Bucky assumes this band is quite popular, especially with the younger crowd. He has already seen a lot of people in Arctic Monkeys shirts, some of them clearly not much older than 14.

  


"Hey Steve," says Bucky as something else catches his eye. "Can we watch something from up there tonight?"

It's a ferris wheel. They haven't even been on the Wonder Wheel at Coney Island, so theoretically they still need to take a ride.

"I don't think you can see the stage from there… but we can still do it if Sir Elton John is boring, deal?" Steve smiles and blinks against the sun while watching the ferris wheel turning slowly. It's not incredibly hot today, he's barely sweating and looks still so fresh and awake, even after three days of fun and action.

"Deal," Bucky agrees and walks up to the barrier while Steve gets them drinks. It's almost too early to drink, before 5 PM, and sunny enough that even a beer will get to Bucky's head more than he wants to. The platform fills up with people pretty quickly and soon Steve has to ask people to let him pass through to Bucky.

"I feel bad for standing in front of smaller people," he sighs as he hands Bucky a beer. "They're on a higher platform already and still can't see."

Bucky turns around to Steve whole. He's… close. They're basically standing toe-to-toe, even though there's about a three-feet-radius space behind Steve.

"These people don't seem incredibly interested in watching the show, or they'd be down there or closer to the barrier," Bucky disagrees, looking hard at Steve. He's not gonna crumble under this blue gaze, or shy away from their proximity. "Thanks for the drink."

"You're welcome," Steve smirks and Bucky turns around again.

It's getting quite loud as the band enters the stage and bright white waves light up the stage, standing in stark contrast with the black backdrop. Bucky can only see tiny people on stage, but there's also screens at every side, and it's way easier to follow the set by watching those. It's hard to believe that this is possible, stages this huge, audio this brilliant, music that loud, music events this big, bands this famous, so many people taking the time to watch them play their songs to them live.

They sound… sexy, somehow. The first song is not very danceable, but it' starts with a distinct beat and a guitar riff that's probably getting stuck in Bucky's ears very soon. He's not sure if that's the one they heard in the car on the way here, it could be.

'Do I wanna know

If this feeling flows both ways?'

Bucky doesn't even try to not project everything he's heard over the weekend on his own situation, it's kind of fun, but also very masochistic of him. He does want to know, though.

'Baby we both know

That the nights are mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day'

Bucky frowns, remembering what Steve had whispered to him the night before, after he said 'Everyone you love dies', and then corrected himself, saying Bucky would still be around. He hasn't wasted a thought on the meaning of this confession before, but it's hitting him now, hard, and he has to drink half his beer to clear his head.

'I'm constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you

I don't know if you feel the same as I do

We could be together if you wanted to'

Bucky can't help it, a lonely laugh excapes his throat. It's not a happy laugh, it's the cruel realisation that they _could_ be together if they wanted to, really, if Natasha, Clint and Sam can, they can, too. It can't be that hard saving the world together, surely?

It doesn't get better with the next songs they're playing, really. There's so many lines Bucky could connect to their situation, and he does and hates himself for it.

'Under a spell you're hypnotized, darling how could you be so blind? I wanna grab both your shoulders and shake baby, snap out of it'

'It's harder and harder to get you to listen, incapable of making alright decisions'

'You cured my January blues, you made it all alright / I got a feeling I might have lit the very fuse that you were trying not to light'

'There's all those places we used to go and I suspect you already know / But that place on memory lane you liked still looks the same / But something about it's changed'

Bucky's head is spinning from all these impressions and from Steve having inched closer behind him in the past half hour, from the beer and the sun. From Steve's body heat and his breath and his arms rubbing over Bucky's as he moves along with the music while he's got Bucky crowded, his hands on the barrier at each side. Bucky tries to concentrate on the crowd and is shocked when he sees people pushing each other around as if they were about to start a fight, but it's everyone against everyone, and Bucky doesn't understand. No one seems to be appalled he notices with a look around, since only half the people seem to be on the viewing platform anymore. The people closest to them is a couple five feet to their right and a middle-aged man eight feet to their left. Everyone else is most likely standing behind them. He tries thinking about everything and nothing, but he can't ignore the fact he's pressed between the barrier and Steve, and how his heart reacts to it. His whole body does.

"You okay?" Steve's right at his ear, his hands heavy on Bucky's shoulders now, stroking down his upper arms, and it's not soothing anymore, everything feels rehearsed and considered and daring and sexual and it's horrible. Bucky can't take it. He turns away from the stage while the Arctic Monkeys frontman sings 'I wanna be yours'.

"You need another drink?," Steve asks, not even glancing at the stage. Bucky wonders if he's been concentrating on the show at all. His gaze is steady on Bucky's eyes.

"No…," Bucky says. "That's not it."

'Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought', they hear from the stage, but it barely reaches Bucky's ears anymore. He just lets his head fall forward, against Steve's chest. He doesn't know what to do. He's not bold or charming anymore, he can't wrap people around his little finger like that, he needs Steve to do anything before he turns around again, embarrassed by himself.

Steve gently lifts Bucky's head from his chest, his big hands cradling Bucky's whole face it seems, and Steve, he doesn't falter. He kisses Bucky then, in front of the world, under the sun, in the early six-o'clock-glow. It's just one kiss, and Bucky realizes he's barely reacted to it. So when Steve's lips leave his, he catches his breath and presses them back together while his arms wrap around Steve's neck. Kissing him is exactly like Bucky has imagined, maybe more desperate and with more weight on the importance of it. Steve's arms wrap around Bucky whole, secure like a blanket Bucky doesn't need but wants more than anything right now. It's enough to make his heart stutter and gasp for breath at some point, but he doesn't need much breath, he only needs a second, and they're back at it again. Kissing is something you can't unlearn, like dancing or riding a bike or swimming, and Bucky has never understood how there can be 'good kissers' and 'bad kissers', he still doesn't, because kissing is beautiful. Steve's shy with his tongue and it takes some moments for Bucky to lure it out and into his own mouth, but when it happens, it's great and Bucky can't help but smile into the kiss. He couldn't be happier right now. He thought he might have forgotten the feeling of complete bliss, but here it is, sparking from his lips over his whole body, into his brains, into his hands, into his pants. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Not even that the band has stopped playing. Steve's fingers get caught in Bucky's messy hair somehow, but again, it doesn't matter. What matters is how careful they let go after this fragment of an infinity, how Steve's breath feels against Bucky's lips, how close they remain, savoring the moment, processing what just happened.

Bucky couldn't find words for this even if he wanted to, but he doesn't want to break the silence by saying something stupid, god knows he's brilliant at that. Steve's thumb gently caresses his jaw and Bucky finally manages to open his eyes again. It's too bright, and the soundscape's back around them again, and no one cares about them. No one realizes how important what just happened is.

Steve's eyes are bright, and so is his smile, and his skin and his hair is golden in the early evening sun. It's ridiculous; Bucky can't believe he's allowed to witness this, after all these years, after both their deaths, after all they've been through, together, and apart from each other, and together again.

"You look like you're about to cry, are you alright?," Steve says quietly, sweeping back Bucky's hair with his hand.

"When did you ever see me cry?," Bucky jokes. "From happiness, if anything."

Steve grins. "I'd prefer not seeing you cry ever again. You didn't even cry at _The Lion King_. You even cried at _Dumbo_!"

"You, too. There are some things I forget, but that's not one of them."

"Too bad," Steve says overly disappointed, but he's just messing around. "Does this mean I can hold your hand in public without it being weird?"

"I guess. Which one do you prefer holding?" Bucky opens both his palms to Steve.

"Is this a trick question?" Steve raises his eyebrow. "If I say left, you'd ask me if I didn't like your real skin and if I say right, you'd think I don't like your spare parts…"

Bucky sighs. "It's not a trick question. You already told me you like my spare parts because they're a part of me."

"If you have more sensation in your flesh and bone hand and feel the touch more intensely, I'd prefer holding that one."

Bucky drops his left hand and Steve entwines his fingers with those of the right one as they walk down the stairs together, back on solid ground, back to life.

  


For reasons unknown, Sam finds them without any communications needed, only ten minutes after having returned to the festival site. He barely acknowledges their handholding, like he's used to it or was just waiting for it to happen.

"You're glowing," he simply says with a bright smile and pats Steve's back. "Don't lose that glow, it suits you. Where is everyone?"

And it's simple as that, really. When they meet Natasha and Clint, she's only smirking and he's put on his resting face. Bucky knows they noticed. They probably have a whole other aura now, him and Steve. They're 100% more comfortable and more relaxed, though Bucky is still kind of excited and uneasy. He doesn't know what happens next. Does he wanna know?

They don't meet Tony or Bruce until the next band plays, and they've already lost the other three again when they find Thor with a whole group of new friends he's just met. Bucky doesn't like too many new people, so they leave him be, buying drinks for complete strangers and showing off his tattoo – again.

  


"Do you listen to what anyone is singing, Steve?," Bucky asks as they've settled down somewhere they have a good view of the screens from the main stage.

"Sometimes. Why?" He's lying flat on his back, his hands softly raking through Bucky's hair who has his head bedded on Steve's chest.

"I heard a lot of things I kind of projected on myself. It's probably stupid, but… it's always crazy to hear things that apply to oneself somehow."

"It's the magic of music. Sam once told me about the Mr. Brightside effect–"

"–I asked him about it, actually, when I didn't understand everyone's obsession. But it makes sense."

"What did you identify with?"

Bucky sighs. "I don't know, there was too much. There was this band we saw last night, the one from Brooklyn. They had some things. And then Edward Sharpe, but you probably noticed that."

"Home is wherever I'm with you," Steve sings quietly.

"Yes, that. … It is, you know."

"I'm glad it is. Is that why you don't care where we go on our next holiday?" Steve's chest is vibrating with his laugh under Bucky's ear.

"Pretty much, yeah. I trust you with that decision."

Steve chuckles again. "Thanks."

"And then Arctic Monkeys…," Bucky continues. "They had a lot of lines. I probably did it on purpose then, listening for things that could apply to me. I don't know why."

"Sometimes our brains do odd things," Steve says and loosens his hand from Bucky's messy strands.

Bucky doesn't want to talk about brains.

  


They lie there for the whole set of a very calm band called The Avett Brothers, who have more than one singer and beautiful voices, from what Bucky can tell. He doesn't look, he just listens, and tries not to fall asleep while doing so.

Bucky tells Steve the next time he can identify with something, but instead of analyzing, they keep listening, and it keeps getting worse and worse.

'And I want to love you and more. I want to find you and more.

Where do you reside when you hide? How can I find you?  
  
Cause I want to send you and more, I want to tempt you and more

Can you tell that I am alive? Let me prove it.  
  
You and I, we're the same. Live and die, we're the same.

Hear my voice, know my name, you and I, we're the same.'

"I was not expecting this," Bucky sighs. "The song sounds much too happy for these lyrics."

Steve agrees, and they fall silent again. They both know what kind of time they're thinking about.

The next time Bucky identifies, he wants to tell Steve, but pauses in the middle of it. It's worse. Much worse. So bad he curls up into a ball next to Steve, rolls off his chest and nuzzles into the arm that wraps around him protectively.

'One foot in and one foot back, but it don't pay to live like that

So I cut the ties and I jumped the tracks, for never to return.  
  
Ah Brooklyn, Brooklyn, take me in

Are you aware the shape I'm in?

My hands they shake, my head it spins

Ah Brooklyn, Brooklyn, take me in.  
  
When at first I learned to speak, I used all my words to fight

With him and her and you and me, but it's just a waste of time.  
  
That woman she's got eyes that shine like a pair of stolen polished dimes

She asked to dance, I said it's fine, I'll see you in the morning time.'

Bucky doesn't cry, he just… he _doesn't_ cry. Ever. Neither does he this time. His chest is aching, but that's all there is. Steve is kissing the top of his head, asking if he wants to go somewhere else, but Bucky shakes his head. He's used to pain and used to bad memories. He just needs to learn how to deal with it properly. He will ask Sam about a serious talk about this. He can't live like that. Being loved is not everything one needs in life after all.

They lie together until the sun is setting around them, but Bucky knows it won't go down before 10 PM, so he cherishes the last warm rays on his skin while Steve's playing with his metal hand.

"Do you wanna take a ride with me?"

"If you're referring to the ferris wheel, then yes, please."

Steve sits up carefully and brushes Bucky's hair out of his face with a fond smile. "No, I on my motorbike," he sighs. "Yes, ferris wheel."

"I'd also take the motorbike if that was an offer," Bucky smirks.

"Oh, do you?"

"Yes?"

"Remind me when we're home. I'd take you for a ride right away."

Bucky snorts, but Steve grabs his face and plants a firm kiss on his mouth. Just like that. Bucky could get used to this.

  


They don't see much of the stage Elton John is supposed to play from the top of the wheel, but that's alright since he's not on yet anyway, and they simply enjoy the things they _can_ see. There's the edges of the festival grounds, flat green fields of Tennessee, the colorful campsite, the Silent Disco tent, and so many tiny people. Sounds mix, there's only bass to hear, and it's awfully romantic and cliché.

"I wanted to hold your hand on Coney Island," Bucky blurts out after a long, comfortable silence.

"And I yours," Steve sighs, grabbing Bucky's hand and holding it in his lap with both of his.

"No… I mean. The first time."

Bucky can hear Steve sucking in air. "You mean–"

"I mean the first time. When we were young. Actually young. I will never know how your tiny hand feels in mine." He didn't want to say that. It's a horrible thing to say to Steve, who can't change the way he's become. But Steve is having none of it.

"I'm not even joking when I say I bet there's a way to build a model after my old hand. I know some doctors and scientists–"

"–I don't want that," Bucky says, looking at Steve in the 9-o'clock-evening glow. "I wanted…to hold that hand _then_. Now these are yours," he gestures to the hands holding his. "And whatever hand is yours, I like to hold."

Steve cracks a smile. "That's exactly how I feel about your hands and please don't ever think anything else. Alright?"

Bucky nods. "Alright." He can't stop looking at Steve. It's like he could miss something if he looked away. He doesn't, he can't, of course, they're stuck on a ferris wheel and there's nowhere for Steve to go, but still. Steve frowns then, realizing something apparently, and it's coming out a moment later:

"When you say you wanted to hold my hand _then_ … how… how long have you been… having these, uh, feelings?"

He's not really good at talking about this, but then again, neither is Bucky, and this place is probably not the best one to talk about it, but once they've started, they can pull through.

"I can't say, I'm too bad at math and I don't trust my memories enough," Bucky says. "I don't even know how many years I was conscious and how many I wasn't."

Steve does this sad eyebrows thing he does too well and Bucky sighs deeply. "I know nothing. Maybe it was just a feeling I had back then, like, 'Wow, I really want to hold Steve's hand right now', maybe there was more, and I've probably forgotten about it – for obvious reasons – and then it just… kind of returned to me? And I remembered. And how could I not… want this? How could anyone not want you by their side? How…" He trails off. He hasn't even looked at Steve while talking, and glancing back at him now, he can't read Steve's expression, really.

"But I'm… just a boy from Brooklyn–"

"Shut up Steve, you know that's not true."

The smile is back on Steve's face and he quickly steals a kiss from Bucky, since they're arrived back on the ground now, and they're asked to leave their car.

Steve pulls Bucky some feet away from the wheel, where they continue kissing, and really, Bucky could do this all day.

"Shouldn't we," he says between kisses, "find – the others – and – get to the – main stage?"

"No," Steve mumbles, smiling into the kiss, and pulls him close enough that Bucky couldn't escape if he wanted to. The truth is, Bucky doesn't really want to. He just wants to shut out everything else around him and wait for the night to fall. He feels safer in the night, having the darkness wrap around him, being up when everyone else is unconscious.

"I found them," someone says next to them, and there's Sam with a phone in hand. "Wish I hadn't, though. We'll be over." He hangs up. "You're cordially invited to join us on the viewing platform in front of What Stage. And by invited I mean everyone will hate you if you don't show up, so you better follow me."

Bucky withdraws from Steve's arms. "But I'm already following that little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight!"

Steve makes a choking noise, but his expression is only mildly pained. "And that little guy is gonna follow Sam, so let's go." He takes Bucky's hand and doesn't let go until they join the others.

  


"I take it that Harry and Sally have found their way back to each other, then," Tony yawns as he spots them approaching the corner where the group has gathered. Bucky can't pinpoint how drunk he is, but that cup of whatever is most likely not his first one.

Bucky doesn't understand that reference and searches for Steve's eyes to help him out there.

"We can watch it as soon as we're back home," he reassures Bucky and pulls him on his lap as they try to squeeze on the last seat of the bench. No one comments. No one comments on anything they do, really, they simply do not care. Sam grins at them whenever his glance passes them, because he knew Bucky's struggle with the situation before. Other than that, Tony simply keeps coming up with new names for them, as if they were not allowed to be Steve and Bucky anymore, but hell, they're used to it. Tony barely ever calls anyone by their real name. Once they're Thelma and Louise, then they're Ernie and Bert, Jack and Rose, Mr. and Mr. Smith, and, of course, Scarlett and Rhett – Bucky understands half of these and makes a mental note to catch up on all these couples Tony throws at them. Not even Steve understands all of these references, apparently. Looks like a long movie marathon for them.

Elton John has some nice songs and everyone seems to have gathered to watch him, even the platform is so full they can't see a thing from where they're sitting, other than all the backs turned to them. It doesn't matter though, they're perfectly fine, catching up on the things they've done today, making plans for the journey back home, dreading to go back to work, hoping nothing bad has happened while they were gone, laughing and drinking and enjoying this weekend while it lasts.

Again, everyone chimes in with 'Can You Feel The Love Tonight', even Bucky, even without knowing the lyrics. They don't really apply to him this time, and it's beautifully relaxing to not think too much.

  


Bucky has never been so glad to crawl into their tent, he's tired and exhausted, but happy. They had another gathering in front of their tents upon arrival at the campsite, with some of Bruce's new friends joining them, and the smell of weed made Bucky even more sleepy, so he decided 1 AM would be an appropriate time to go to bed. Steve follows ten minutes later, he was wrapped up in a conversation with Nat, and Bucky warms up instantly as Steve lies down next to him on his side.

He cracks a smile as he realizes Bucky is still awake, and inches closer until his nose nudges Bucky's.

"Thank you," Bucky whispers in the dark, and his hand finds Steve's side, discreetly testing the waters by sliding only his thumb under his t-shirt. Steve doesn't really show a reaction.

"For what?," he asks, quietly, while running his fingertips over the side of Bucky's chin.

"Everything. Did I ever thank you properly?"

"I think you did."

"Then thanks for the trip. And everything. I'm so grateful for your existence."

Steve laughs soundlessly. "I'm just happy to have you back."

"I'm not going anywhere for a while," Bucky promises while his hand creeps under Steve's t-shirt, sliding over the soft skin at his waist and coming to rest in the small of his back.

"I wouldn't let you leave again anyway," Steve whispers and rolls Bucky on his back. His lips trail down the side of Bucky's neck and – Jesus – there's too much sensation, Bucky twitches and claws his fingers at Steve's back before realizing it's his left hand and he doesn't know how much damage he could do unintentionally.

"We'll figure this out some time," Steve mumbles, planting kisses along Bucky's jaw. He seems to be completely at ease. Some time. Bucky is okay with that. He prefers intimacy in complete privacy anyway.

They lie curled up for a long time, sharing kisses and hands wandering, Bucky's knee between Steve's thighs, and it's just as Bucky's about to doze off when Steve says something quiet.

"I don't wanna go home."

Bucky grunts and lays his fingers on Steve's mouth, who simply kisses them.

"Shut up punk." He rests his hand on Steve's cheek. "You forget that we're already home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From what I've heard, Bonnaroo (in real life) was a huge success this year. There will be an epilogue, but it won't come tomorrow for I don't have enough time to write right now, but wait for it just a little longer!
> 
> Songs mentioned:  
> Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros — Black Water  
> Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros — Home  
> Arctic Monkeys — Do I Wanna Know?  
> Arctic Monkeys — I Wanna Be Yours  
> Also lines from the following Arctic Monkeys songs: Snap Out Of It, Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?, Knee Socks, Fireside  
> The Avett Brothers — Live and Die  
> The Avett Brothers — I And Love And You


	5. Monday & More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with the dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am incredibly sorry this has taken me so long to add! This has kind of gotten out of hand and is way longer than I wanted an epilogue to be, so it turned out to become part 5 :)

It takes them half an hour to get out of bed the next morning, mostly because it takes Steve five minutes alone to reassure Bucky he doesn't care about damn morning breath, he only cares about kissing Bucky, and the rest is just a lazy 15-minute-long make-out session in which they roll from one end of the mattress to the other and back, getting lost in the sheets and rolling up accidentally.

"How do we get out of this," Bucky chuckles, lying on top of Steve, the covers tightly wrapped around them.

"We don't," Steve says, stealing a kiss and letting his head fall back on the mattress.

"I thought you were a morning person," Bucky mumbles while his nose trails along Steve's neck.

Steve hums with pleasure. "That's just because I found being in bed so boring."

Bucky kisses Steve between his collarbones, once, twice, three times, before looking back at him. "You left the bed a lot back at the Tower, though."

"I didn't think you were the type to cuddle…"

"Excuse me? I've always been the type to cuddle."

"It was cold… we _had_ to."

Bucky sighs. "That's not the only reason why I did it, you oblivious little…" He trails off.

"I'm sorry," Steve says, wiggling under Bucky, but he can't move his hands. "I'll stay for cuddles from now on."

Bucky rolls off him with a smile and they manage to get rid of the sheets.

  
  


Only Natasha and Bruce are up when they emerge from the tents, ready to hit the showers. Nat has her hair put up, a rare sight, and she's showing Bruce something on her phone, coffee in hand, and gets up from her camping chair.

"Watch this," she says and tilts the screen for Steve and Bucky to have a good look. It's a video of Clint and Sam in the tent, probably shot this morning, with a lot of space between them, both facing a wall each. The blankets are in a pile on the floor, Bucky suspects Nat has stolen all of them in the night and kicked them out of bed when she got up this morning. The video shows Sam rolling around, facing the middle, facing Clint, and draping his arm over the space Natasha left.

"I wanted to take a picture but I accidentally starting filming, and then I just went with it," Nat explains and the next thing they see is Clint turning over as well, his foot bumping against Sam's. Sam drapes his arm over Clint instead, and shifts closer until Clint can put his knee between Sam's legs.

"I haven't ever seen Clint sleep as much as he has this weekend," Nat says with a fond smile and a little shake of her head.

"Time to invest in a bigger bed then," Bucky suggests and pats her back. "We'll be in the shower if anyone needs us."

"Have fun. Don't forget to write a postcard," Natasha snickers as she collapses back into her chair.

  
  


They don't write any postcards. It must be earlier than Bucky had thought it was, since, for a leaving day, the showers are mostly empty. Bucky kicks open a cubicle door and is halfway through the frame when he realizes that Steve is not going straight to one of the other cubicles. He's pretending to sort out his clothes and shampoo, but he's a terrible actor, and has always been.

"Erm… you– you wanna…?" Bucky nods inside the cubicle.

"Join?" Steve asks, hopefulness visible in the line of his eyebrows, and he's already taken the two steps it takes to get to Bucky.

Bucky only grins and tries not to be too excited about this. They've showered together so often that he lost count, in cubicles smaller than this, sometimes not in cubicles at all, but never like this.

Never has Steve pulled Bucky underneath the stream as soon as he was undressed, never have they kissed while water came down on them, never has Steve taken so much time cleaning Bucky and making funny hairstyles with shampoo in his hair, because never has Bucky's hair been long enough to actually make hairstyles.

"Next thing you'll make me a beard from this foam," Bucky sighs, but with a laugh, while Steve tries curling his hair into a quiff.

"I will save that for our first bubble bath," Steve grins and pulls Bucky's head under the stream to rinse him.

"You really got bigger," he mumbles as he looks back up, and Steve goes completely pale before flushing bright red, because yeah, he knows what Bucky is referring to.

"Sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?"

Steve shakes his head. "I… just…" He doesn't finish because Bucky kisses him, arms thrown around his neck, kisses him deeply, and Steve kind of stumbles around, dragging them away from the water.

"If you do anything else than come see me in our bed once we're home… you're in big trouble, Mister," Bucky pants once he's broken the kiss. "Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Sergeant," Steve sighs. He's still red, but it's fading now that they've stepped back from the hot water.

"Very well," Bucky says and Steve throws a towel over his head, if only just to shut him up from being so fast-forward all of a sudden. He then takes on the challenge of drying Bucky's hair as gently as possible, which in the end makes Bucky look like he put his finger in an electric socket. Judging from the way Steve looks at him though, he likes it. And that's really all that counts right now.

  
  


"Morning, lovebirds," Steve chirps as they arrive back at their camp, when he spots Clint and Sam being up and about.

"Sup, Captain Cutiepie," Sam nods, without commenting on Steve's remark. "You have that glow. Don't lose that glow." He points at Bucky. "You. Make sure he doesn't lose that glow."

"That's my plan for tonight." Bucky watches with pleasure as Sam swallows, eyes big, and turns away.

Steve's flushed again, trying to hide it in his coffee cup, but there's no hiding it from Bucky. He feels so much more like himself, now that he starts making dirty jokes again and embarrassing Steve on a regular basis.

They have their last breakfast of this adventure together, reminiscing about the past four days, making fun of each other, throwing things, talking about what to do once they're back home (Bucky keeps his mouth shut, no one wants to hear about that), imagining the faces of those they left behind when they get the festival postcards with their photos attached, arguing about the traveling parties on the way back (Tony clearly states he won't share a car with any lovebirds, but ends up with Bruce and Clint and Sam and no one feels sorry) and doing general friend-things that friends do.

Friends. Bucky hasn't had anything close to a friend in decades, and even the Howling Commandos were more like a family to him. He never considered anyone as much as a friend as Steve, and the realization hits him hard. Another thing he wants to talk about with Sam, who makes friends easily by simply sticking around so long that no one gets rid of him anymore, until they can't live without him anymore.

Steve doesn't make friends, friends make him, and he's okay with that, he likes company but he also likes being on his own.

Thor makes friends by being as dorky and open and welcoming as he is, drinking with people, asking a lot of questions and being confused by 'Midgard', as he calls it.

Tony's only real friends are mostly people who work for him, which says a lot.

Bruce is on his own so much that he probably doesn't even notice that he has friends, and Bucky wonders if he's aware that these people he met on the campsite could be considered something more than acquaintances, given how much time he's spent with them this weekend.

Natasha doesn't make friends, she has too many trust issues; Bucky thinks she probably doesn't even trust half of the people on the team, but she's also not unattached either – sometimes it's hard to tell what's under her hard shell.

Clint has, well, this girl named Kate that kind of lives in the Tower from time to time, but Bucky doesn't know if she's his friend or ward or stalker or alter ago, she's just there and brings a one-eyed-dog Clint is very attached to, and that's literally the only time Bucky has ever seen Clint really happy.

So they're people who happen to live with him, more than anything, and maybe they will be friends at one point or another, before any of them die in combat. It could happen anytime, let's be honest here, and Bucky doesn't really want to lose any of them, no matter how little he knows about them.

  
  


Bucky sleeps in the car, nodding off against Steve's shoulder while Natasha is listening to some audio book next to him (audio books are an interesting invention) and Thor's in the front trying to get their driver to talk on this journey. Steve's steady strokes over his metal palm are calming and he's gone in under ten minutes.

Bucky claims the window seat on the flight so he can have a look at the world beneath, and it's beautiful and Bucky wants to fly more often.

Tony and Thor, the idiots, let themselves be welcomed in New York with both Mjölnir and the Iron Suit, and they're gone as soon as they've arrived. Everyone else is picked up by a damn limousine like they're the most important people in the world, and neither Steve nor Bucky really approve of this.

"Should have parked my motorbike at the airport," Steve sighs once they're inside. "I could have given you that ride like I promised…"

"We have another lifetime ahead, no rush," Bucky yawns. He could just as well fall asleep again, but there's things he must do first.

  
  


They're greeted by Kate and the dog and Pepper and Darcy and Jane and JARVIS and a lot of pizza, some of which the dog is eagerly eating from Kate's hand already, and there's a lot of hellos and stories exchanged and travel clothes taken off (especially hats and socks and jackets, it's still so warm, even inside). Bucky has already forgotten about his plans when he sits squished between Steve and Darcy, having pepperoni pizza and listening to what happened while they were away (nothing much, at least nothing the leftover superheroes scattered around the continent couldn't handle).

It's only when Steve gets up to put the pizza boxes into the trash that Bucky remembers and follows him into the kitchen.

"I hope you remember what I said."

Steve spins around to where Bucky is leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.

"About… the first thing–"

"–yes, that. Come on." He takes Steve's hand and pulls him towards the elevator that slides close as soon as they're there.

"Welcome back, Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes. Your floor?," JARVIS's voice comes from the speakers.

"Our floor," Steve confirms with a smile.

They're already kissing when the door opens and stumble out into the corridor and right against Bucky's bedroom door. It's where they've spent all their nights together, where Bucky feels safest and most at home. Steve pushes his hands under Bucky's t-shirt before Bucky has even opened the door and they almost fall into the room as he's finally fumbled for the doorhandle. Bucky's shirt is off as soon as the door has closed and Steve crowds him against the door with a bang. It doesn't hurt, nothing hurts, not when Steve's lips are at Bucky's neck, not when he's kissing and biting and his hands are everywhere. Bucky tugs at Steve's shirt, pushing it up, and Steve only lets go of him for the second it takes to get rid of the clothing item. Bucky catches Steve's wrists, walking him backwards to the bed, pushing him down on top of the covers, before crawling between his legs, still kissing him hard. Steve's flushed and hot and still faintly smelling like his shower gel when Bucky spreads kisses along his shoulder. Steve lets out a sound that's something between a sigh and a groan, and his hands dig into Bucky's messy hair. He pulls him up into another kiss, tongue soft around Bucky's, more playful and challenging than desperate, but when he boldly licks Bucky's lower lip, that does it for Bucky. He pulls away and kisses a line down Steve's sweat-drenched torso that's so incredibly big and gives him so much room to play, such a wide area to touch.

"B-Buck–" Steve tries communicating, but Bucky won't listen, he's busy ridding them both of their pants at the same time, which is harder than expected.

"No," he grumbles and turns his attention away from his own underpants and back to Steve's, which are about to tear with Steve's erection pressing against them. If Steve's already squirming when Bucky's sliding his palm over the fabric, he's half done when Bucky pulls his briefs down and immediately starts planting one kiss after another along Steve's length.

"B-B–"

"No," Bucky repeats, with more authority than Steve has ever used on him, like trying to tell a cat to keep its paws off the table. Steve sighs, throwing his head back, and rakes his fingers through Bucky's hair. Bucky sweeps some precome from Steve's tip with his thumb before using his tongue on him, sliding his hand down to the base, and Steve's whimper is like music to his ears. He never wants to hear anything else again.

"B—sh— Hey."

Bucky slowly, very slowly loosens his lips from Steve's cock to look up at him. If his death glare is strong enough, would it make Steve shut up already?

"I– I wanna feel this… _with_ you." He pulls Bucky further up the bed, back to where they're on one level, and continues, "Not before you… or after you…"

"You think you're gonna be too exhausted after this, Mr. Mega Metabolism?," Bucky smirks and pushes Steve back onto the mattress.

"That word is not even in my vocabulary. It's not about that–"

"You want the real deal," Bucky says, straddling him, and runs his fingertips over Steve's incredible abs. "Just say it."

"I… want the real deal." Steve bats his eyelashes at Bucky. Well, good for him that this is what Bucky was going for anyway. No need to bat any eyelashes here.

"I'm ready. Bring it."

Steve doesn't need to be told twice, he drags Bucky down on him to meet him in an open-mouthed kiss before flipping the two of them around.

"Tell me if I'm about to crush you," he says, completely serious.

"You slept on top of me more than one night without noticing, you're not gonna crush m–oh!"

Steve hasn't even listened to Bucky talking, he's simply reached down and taken Bucky's briefs off, without so much as a glance at him.

"What–" Bucky can't even finish his question as Steve emerges from the foot of the bed with a freaking travel-sized bottle of lubricant, cocking his eyebrow.

"Where–"

"Do you really wanna know?"

"Yes, I really wanna know! Do you just happen to carry this around with you at all times?"

Steve chuckles and crawls back next to Bucky. "Actually, Natasha gave it to me… last night. Totally out of the blue. In those 10 minutes it took me to follow you into the tent. I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed in my life."

"Well…"

"Bucky, I'm scared of her sometimes."

Bucky laughs. "I honestly think everyone is. Even me. Even Clint. Even Bruce."

"She did it very discreetly, so I don't think anyone else noticed, but I… well, I marked your words and thought I should be prepared." He smiles a stupid, crooked smile, and Bucky shakes his head before kissing Steve lightly.

"You are ridiculous, but look who's prepared now," Bucky says and reaches over, sliding open the second drawer of his nightstand and fishing a condom out of the mess in there.

"I always knew we complement each other well, but this…" Steve trails off with a shrug. "I have no words for this."

"Then you could finally stop talking for a change," Bucky suggests, but with a smile and a kiss at the air.

And Steve, he says nothing, he goes on with a nod that can only mean 'very well', and snatches the condom out of Bucky's hand. Bucky watches while Steve prepares himself, considering if he has ever even done this before, but he's so calm about it, not clumsy, but also not like it's his daily routine either. Bucky forgets about everything when Steve mumbles, "Could be cold", and it _is_ damn cold, but Bucky's hot and bothered, so that's a nice change and he's hard in no time when Steve's finger pushes into him. Bucky gasps and reaches for any part of Steve he can find, claws into his shoulders with both hands. Steve catches his eyes, and he's about so say something, again, dammit, but Bucky's nod tells him everything he needs to know, and he adds a second finger. Bucky hasn't felt this alive and this much like _himself_ ever since he left Steve for the very first time in his life. It's mind-blowing. He didn't know he could still feel this way. Steve withdraws, and Bucky opens his eyes, not even aware he'd closed them in the first place. He sees the damage he's done to Steve's shoulders then, long scratches on his right upper arm.

"It's okay, it doesn't even hurt," Steve whispers. "I… like it." He leans in, kissing Bucky's jaw. "Don't worry," he says, low as a breath, and kisses him in the curve of his neck while his index finger draws a line along the underside of Bucky's cock.

Okay. Bucky couldn't even worry if he wanted to, not like this. No one could make him feel as good and as worthy and as loved as this man right here, and Bucky's trying hard to project all his thoughts on Steve right now.

When Steve pushes in, Bucky needs a second to reassemble his thoughts, which are all over the place, and to adapt to the feeling, and then Steve starts moving, slowly, steadily, and Bucky wraps his legs around him as high up as possible. Their kisses are messy and interrupted by little gasps and sighs, and a cry when Steve wraps his hand around Bucky as well, lengthy strokes that soon make Bucky feel different in the pit of his stomach. It spreads, quickly, to the rest of his body, down to his toes, and Steve shifts with a sudden movement, when Bucky releases all the pressure into his hand. Steve thrusts once, two times more, before collapsing with something coming from his lips that could have been Bucky's name if he ever got to more than 'B–'.

Regaining his breath and enjoying the tingle leaving his body slowly, Bucky couldn't care less about Steve's weight on top of him. But Steve wouldn't be Steve if he weren't also the most thoughtful and kind man on the planet whose vocabulary doesn't include 'exhausted'. So Steve pulls out, rolls off the condom and pads into the bathroom, but not without a gentle kiss on Bucky's forehead.

"No shower!," Bucky grumbles while kicking off the top cover. He's gonna take care of that later.

"Not part of my plan!," Steve announces as he returns with a glass of water and a wet washcloth. "Let me care about you anyway."

Bucky smiles gratefully and accepts the water. After cleaning up most of the mess, Steve crawls under the cover with Bucky, who rolls onto his stomach and props himself up on his elbows.

Steve takes a breath to say something again, but Bucky holds his lips closed with his thumb and index finger. The sight makes Bucky crack up, but he honestly wants Steve to not talk right now. He lets his fingertips lie on Steve's lips and leans in to kiss the red marks on his bicep instead. He's a monster, he knows, but monsters can be controlled. Bruce can control his inner monster. But Bruce doesn't have a damn metal arm that does damage wherever he goes.

"I'm sorry," he whispers at the marks.

"'Tis but a scratch," Steve says against Bucky's fingertips and nips at his index finger. He chuckles.. Bucky doesn't understand. "They won't stay, Buck."

Bucky looks back at him and Steve takes his hand with a sigh while turning his arm. "This stays." His thumb rubs over the wing tattoo softly. "It's okay. The scratches will be gone before we even leave this bed. And…" He shrugs and glances at the ceiling. "I might have liked it. Maybe. A bit."

Bucky must have looked too perplexed, even though Steve had already told him, so Steve cracks a shy smile. "Is… is that weird?"

"I guess nothing is too weird, given our situation," Bucky sighs and kisses the hand he's holding before collapsing on his side and cuddling up to Steve.

The last thing that reaches his ears before dozing off is, "Welcome home," and he smiles. Home.

  
  


Steve's the worst. He's researching ballroom dancing schools on Bucky's StarkPad before Bucky has even woken up (it's weird, he thinks, how as soon as he's here with Steve, he can sleep like a stone without waking up at the slightest movement or sound).

"You're awake," Steve notes as Bucky's arms wrap around him tightly, eyes closed again after a tiny glance at his surroundings.

"No, I'm still asleep," Bucky grumbles, rubbing his nose against Steve's chest. He smells like sex. Bucky loves it.

"I thought you'd stopped talking in your sleep."

"I'm in denial. Shut up."

Steve's laugh makes him vibrate against Bucky's cheek, and he puts the StarkPad away to pull Bucky into an embrace.

"Good morning, Sergeant Sleepyhead," he coos and spreads kisses on the top of Bucky's head and on his forehead.

"You know what I liked? Captain Cutiepie. I don't know why anyone would call you pie, but I like that."

Steve chuckles. "Don't call me that in public."

"I'm gonna call you anything I want in public, shut up."

"Jerk."

"Punk."

Bucky lifts his head to look at Steve properly for the first time today, and it's there, this glow everyone's talking about. More than the usual ray of light surrounding him when he's happy, much more than that. Just when Bucky thought he couldn't possibly love this man more, he comes and smacks him in the face with this… this whole being. Bucky doesn't understand how no one could see the damn _potential_ in him before.

"Are you alright?"

"I am now."

Steve cracks a smile and presses his lips to Bucky's gently.

  
  


They pull through those dancing lessons in only a month, and the school is very discreet about freaking Captain America dragging some guy with a metal arm – who may or may not be this guy that was supposed to be really dangerous from what they said in the news last year – to private ballroom dancing lessons with no explanation whatsoever. Maybe Bucky's death glares are working on them. Maybe something else makes them shut up. Who knows.

It works just fine, and Steve's a leader, so he leads, and he has to, so he can lead Peggy very soon as well.

Bucky's not out in the public yet, not really, he still joins Sam and Steve on their runs with sunglasses and a hoodie on, which is horrible in summer, but they still don't know how to carefully tell the public that, well, surprise, Bucky Barnes is still alive and oh, he also has a cybernetic arm and tried to kill Natasha and Steve and Sam once. Until they've figured that out, Bucky spends a lot of time in the Tower, hangs out with Darcy and Kate who are always around somehow, and lets Tony have some more looks at his arm with the strict limitation on basic examinations and no crazy experiments. Tony is still giddy like a child about it, but Bucky trusts him with this.

Bucky approaches Sam with his request to talk to him very discreetly and carefully. But Sam is so proud of him even working up the courage to come back to that offer on his own that Bucky immediately feels better about it. And he learns a lot from Sam. He's not acting like a counselor, really, even though he is. And maybe Bucky just can't see the difference between this Sam and his friend Sam. Maybe there is none. Maybe Sam is half comedian, half shrink. Who knows.

  
  


Bucky accompanies Steve to his next meeting with Peggy. They go by motorbike, as they've done so often now. Bucky doesn't go inside with Steve, he stays in the corridor, slightly uneasy as some of the nurses are looking at him curiously. Peggy would probably get a heart attack if she learned that not only Steve, but also Bucky was alive, so he stays in the shadow and says nothing when Steve passes him with Peggy in her wheelchair. He simply smiles back and watches through the window in the wall between the corridor and the common room of the nursing home.

"The first time he came here we didn't think she'd survive the shock. But he insisted on seeing her. And… she was over the moon. She forgets very quickly, but she's… happier. She doesn't know why." The voice comes from a nurse that has joined Bucky at the window, watching Steve kneel before Peggy, talking to her, making her smile a toothless smile.

"She's beautiful," Bucky says. He remembers Peggy being stunning when she was young, but she's still a sight.

"She is. She's very weak. I'm afraid she won't make it much longer."

"Then you're just in time to witness a historical moment. Don't even think about recording this," Bucky says.

"Wait, what is he doing?"

Steve's lifting Peggy from her wheelchair, keeping her close, and setting her weak feet down on his. She doesn't have to bring up any strength herself, Steve's 100% carrying her, and Bucky holds the nurse back at her shoulder before she can burst into the common room.

"They had a date, remember."

The nurse does remember, and she might or might not choke up with tears. Soon most of the nurses have gathered behind the window to witness this moment. There is no music, just Steve and Peggy slowly going in circles, Steve's hips swaying lightly. This, of course, is nothing like what he learned to do with Bucky, but the steps he takes are a slow waltz. Peggy's shaking in his arms, but it's impossible to see if she's laughing or crying or just shaking because she's old and weak.

"This is historical ladies, the man is right. The world has been waiting for this moment since 1945!," the nurse says, wiping her eyes. Bucky tries not to grumble how none of them were even around in 1945, but he ends up just rolling his eyes. Let them have their fun.

  
  


They don't go back to the Tower afterwards, they go to Brooklyn and take a long walk, ending up at the docks, watching ships roll in, like they did so many decades ago. There aren't really many people around, even on a nice July day like this one, in the 6-PM-sun, and they just sit opposite each other, one leg each dangling over the edge, the other with the tips of their shoes scratching the safe ground.

"New Zealand," Steve says. "You liked the landscape when we watched _Lord Of The Rings_."

"I'm not interested in living in a hobbit hole," Bucky says. "There must be other places."

"Iceland. Has volcanoes and a really weird language. Greenland. Almost no one around. You probably can't even use a phone in most of the country." Steve's eyes follow a flock of birds in a formation above them. "We could look at modern Germany. They've got good beer, I hear. What about South Africa? Hawaii? Corsica? Japan? We could go anywhere."

Bucky smiles at so much wanderlust. "I'd like to see Alaska," he says then. They haven't talked about the holiday thing in some time now, but his mind always goes back to the pictures he's seen from there. "It's not incredibly far away. And the landscape is breathtaking. I want to see it."

Steve shrugs. "Alaska it is. I don't care where we go as long as I'm there with you."

"Me neither." Bucky shifts closer and leans in to nudge Steve's nose with his. "You already are my home."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had fun, hope you did, too. Thanks for reading and commenting and giving kudos and everything, this all got much more popular than I'd have expected :')
> 
> xx


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